TE 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 


BY  PERCY  MACKAYE 


The  Canterbury  Pilgrims.    A  Comedy. 

Fenris,  the  Wolf.    A  Tragedy. 

Jeanne  D'Arc. 

Sappho  and  Pbaon. 

The  Scarecrow.  A  Tragedy  of  ibe  Ludicrous. 

Mater.    An  American  Study  in  Comedy. 


Uniform,  xamo.     $1.25  net,  each. 


MATER 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK  •    BOSTON  •    CHICAGO 
ATLANTA  •   SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON  •    BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


MATER 


An  American  Study  in  Comedy 


BY 
PERCY    MACKAYE 


go* 
THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

1908 

All  rights  reserved 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


CHARACTERS 

MATILDA   DEAN  (? Mater"}. 
MICHAEL  DEAN,  her  son. 
MARY  DEAN,  her  daughter. 
ARTHUR   CULLEN. 
RUDOLPH   VERBECK. 


TIME.  —  To-day. 

PLACE.  —  A  City  in  Eastern  United  States. 


SCENE 
LIVING-ROOM  IN  THE  DEANS'  HOUSE 

ACT   I.  — MORNING. 

ACT  II.  —  A  FEW  DAYS  LATER:  AFTERNOON. 

ACT  III.  —  MIDNIGHT. 


FOREWORD 

THE  acting  rights  of  this  play  are  owned  by  Mr. 
Henry  Miller,  under  whose  direction  it  was  first  pro 
duced  in  San  Francisco,  at  the  Van  Ness  Theatre, 
August  3,  1908,  and  in  New  York,  at  the  Savoy 
Theatre,  September  25,  1908. 

The  music  to  Mater's  song  in  the  play  has  been 
composed  by  Professor  George  W.  Chadwick,  Direc 
tor  of  the  Boston  Conservatory  of  Music,  and  may 
be  had,  arranged  for  the  piano,  in  published  form. 

P.  M-K. 

CORNISH,  NEW  HAMPSHIRE, 
September,  1908. 


PROGRAMME     OF     THE     PLAY 

AS  FIRST  PRODUCED  IN  NEW  YORK 

AT  THE  SAVOY  THEATRE 
SEPTEMBER  25,  1908 

AN  AMERICAN  STUDY  IN  COMEDY, 
By  PERCY  MACKAYE, 

ENTITLED 

MATE  R 

Direction  of  HENRY  MILLER 
CAST 

HONORABLE  ARTHUR  CULLEN, 

Mr.  CHARLES  A.  STEVENSON 

MICHAEL  DEAN  Mr.  FREDERICK  LEWIS 

RUDOLF  VERBECK  Mr.  JOHN  JUNIOR 

MARY  DEAN  Miss  HAZEL  MACKAYE 

—and — 
MATER  Miss  ISABEL  IRVING 


ACT   I 


ACT   I 

The  living-room  in  the  Deans1  house,  simply  furnished,  with 
an  atmosphere  of  books,  pictures,  music  and  domesticity. 
In  color,  the  prevailing  tones  are  harmonious  browns. 
The  walls  are  panelled  high  with  oak,  above  which  they 
are  covered  with  a  soft  brocade  of  unobtrusive  design. 
In  the  back  wall,  at  centre,  hung  with  long  curtains,  a 
large  casement  window,  with  deep,  cushioned  seat,  looks 
out  upon  the  tops  of  fruit  trees  toward  neighboring  city 
houses.  On  both  sides  of  the  window  are  book-cases. 
Near  the  right  wall,  at  back,  the  room  opens,  by  a  cur 
tained  doorway,  into  a  hall,  where  the  newel-post  and 
descending  balustrade  of  a  stairway  are  visible.  In  the 
left  wall,  between  doors,  is  a  fireplace,  above  which  is 
hung  the  large  oil  portrait  \head  and  busf\  of  a  middle- 
aged  man  —  a  face  of  strong  character  and  vitality. 

Against  the  right  wall,  a  divan,  below  which  a  door  opens 
into  a  closet  with  shelves.  At  right,  a  baby -grand  piano, 
with  ruddy  brown  case ;  at  left,  an  ample  table,  on 
which  —  amid  newspapers,  books,  sewing  materials  and 
manuscripts  —  stands  a  telephone  instrument. 

At  this  table  are  seated  MARY  DEAN  and  RUDOLF  VERBECK. 
Mary,  who  is  dressed  in  black  and  wears  rimless  spec 
tacles,  is  a  handsome  girl  of  strong  features ,  dark  hair 
and  intense  eyes.  She  is  reading  aloud  from  a  thick 
volume.  Rudolf,  a  Dutch- American  type  of  young 
man,  is  gazing  at  her  with  a  look  of  forced  concentra 
tion  and  unforced  affection. 
3 


4  «'•          MATER 

fX'O  :  1 1. .:/•'•. -.-: 

MARY 
[Reads.} 

"  To  destroy  human  egotism  is  impossible.  There 
fore  let  us  direct  it  so  as  to  make  it  serve  the  ends  of 
society  instead  of  subverting  them.  Now  there  is 
reason  to  believe  that  society,  through  organization, 
can  be  converted  into  a  great  happiness-producing 
mechanism,  and  that  self-interest  can  be  utilized  to 
drive  it.  Thus  we  shall  not  have  to  essay  the  hope 
less  task  of  destroying  egotism  in  man,  but  by  simply 
diverting  its  channel  from  competition  to  coopera 
tion,  convert  it  into  a  mighty  power  for  the  good  — 
instead  of  the  harm  —  of  mankind." 

RUDOLF 
Mary !     That's  the  point. 

MARY 
What? 

RUDOLF 

Egotism.     It's  for  our  good,  you  know. 

MARY 

To  be  sure ;  if  it's  rightly  diverted. 

RUDOLF 

That's  what  I  mean.  You  see,  it's  self-interest 
that  makes  me  ask  it. 

MARY 

Ask  what  ? 

RUDOLF 
When  are  we  going  to  be  married  ? 


MATER  5 

MARY 

Rudolf  Verbeck,  you're  incorrigible!  You  have 
as  much  power  of  generalization  as  a  June  bug. 

RUDOLF 

Just  the  same,  your  brother's  book  there  gives  me 
the  lead. 

MARY 

Your  sense  of  proportion  is  crude,  my  dear.  My 
brother's  book  is  concerned  with  the  great  interests 
of  society ;  and  compared  to  such,  I  assure  you,  our 
engagement  and  marriage  are  of  very  trifling  con 
cern. 

RUDOLF 

Oh,  but  I  say  !     I  ain't  trifling. 

MARY 

\JHer  teeth  on  edgt.~\ 

Please!  Whatever  you  are,  or  aren't,  don't  say 
ain't. 

RUDOLF 

I  know,  but  when  a  fellow's  in  love  — 

MARY 

Not  that!  I've  told  you  —  this  is  the  tenth  time 
at  least  —  you  are  never  to  mention  that  to  me  again 
till  after  Michael  is  elected. 

RUDOLF 
But  what  if  he  ain't  —  isn't  elected  ? 


6  MATER 

MARY 

Then  I  shall  devote  myself  solely  to  him  until  he 
is.  Michael  is  the  youngest  man  ever  nominated  for 
the  legislature ;  if  he  fails  of  election  now,  he  must 
run  again.  He  is  needed  in  the  nation.  He  must 
be  a  force  to  shape  its  chaos,  to  stem  its  corruption. 
But  you  know  he  is  far  from  well.  The  launching 
of  his  life-work  must  be  my  first  concern  —  and 
yours,  if  you  care  for  me.  You  —  you  do  care  for 
me  ? 

RUDOLF 

Care  !     You  know,  girl,  I  love  — 

MARY 

[Holding  the  volume  interceptingly  ^\ 
Love  me  —  love  my  brother's  book !     Read,  please. 
My  glasses  are  dusty. 

[She  takes  off  her  spectacles  and  wipes  them.     He  takes  the 
book  and  reads  vaguely. ~\ 

RUDOLF 

"  Common  Sense  and  the  Common  Weal :  by 
Michael  Dean." 

MARY 

You  needn't  read  the  cover.  I  stopped  on  page 
78. 

RUDOLF 

[Hastening  to  find  the  place.] 
Good. 

\Reads  quickly .] 

"The  social  structure  I  propose  may  conveniently 
be  expounded  under  eight  topics  : 


MATER  7 

First,  Public  ownership  of  the  means  of  produc 
tion,  retention  of  the  wage  system  and  abolition  of 
profit. 

Second,  Organization  of  a  system  of  distribution, 
whereby  supply  and  demand  in  products  may  be 
adjusted. 

Third,  Organization  of  a  national  labor  exchange, 
whereby  supply  and  demand  in  labor  may  be  ad 
justed."— 

Adjusted  —  say,  Mary! 

MARY 
What? 

RUDOLF 

You  will  adjust  it  all  right  —  if  we  elect  him  ? 
\_Mary  snatches  the  book  from  him  and  turns  away.~\ 
I  was  only  talking  of  supply  and  demand ! 

MARY 

If  you  say  one  word  more  of  it,  I  won't  speak  to 
you  for  a  week. 

[Relentlessly  returning  him  the  book.] 
Now,  take  in  what  you  read. 

RUDOLF 

\_Reads  on  gropingly.^ 

"Fourth,  Organization  of  an  inspection  system, 
whereby  the  quality  of  products  may  be  retained  at 
a  definite  standard. 

Fifth,  Application  of  labor  to  production. 


8  MATER 

Sixth,  Organization  of  invention. 
Seventh,  Old  age  insurance. 
Eighth,  Reform  of  Education." 

MARY 

—  Rudolfo  !  To  think  when  he's  elected,  Michael 
will  be  a  living  factor  in  all  this.  And  the  campaign 
is  going  on  gloriously. 

RUDOLF 
I  wish  to-morrow  was  election  day. 

MARY 

Do  you  remember,  in  the  settlement  work,  down 
there  in  the  slums,  how  they  shouted  for  him  that 
first  meeting ;  and  when  they  saw  him  — 

RUDOLF 

I  remember  when  I  first  saw  you  there,  addressing 
the  Mothers  and  Daughters'  Club,  and  starting  a 
campaign  of  clean  clothes.  How  in  thunder  did  you 
ever  cut  and  stitch  that  mountain  of  pinafores  ? 

MARY 

Oh,  Mater  attends  to  that  for  me.  She's  just 
domestic  and  practical,  you  know.  I'm  concerned 
with  the  large  principles  and  statistics.  I'm  a  very 
humble  disciple  of  my  great  brother. 

RUDOLF 

I  thought  your  mother's  trump  cards  were  books 
and  pianos  and  such. 


MATER  9 

MARY 

I  suppose  you  mean  dabbling  in  lyrics  and  poets 
and  such  light  stuff?  Yes,  Mater  mixes  that  up  with 
her  housekeeping.  She's  an  outlandish  little  person 
—  of  course,  very  nice  and  dear  and  useful  — •  but 
when  it  comes  to  serious  things  —  Oh,  quite  beyond 
her  depth !  Politics,  sociology,  for  instance  —  she 
hasn't  the  first  ray  of  comprehension. 

RUDOLF 

Never  mind — you  have!  And  I  know  the  poor 
dirty  people  love  you  for  what  you  are  doing  for  'em. 

MARY 

Oh,  it's  Michael  they  love.  And  they  look  to  him 
as  a  new  young  prophet  —  a  prophet  of  reason  and 
joy.  And  it  isn't  only  the  poor  —  it's  the  overworked 
men  everywhere,  eager  to  see  a  way  out  of  forced 
labor  into  free  life.  Do  you  know  what  they  call 
this  book?  The  busy-man's  Bible.  Ah,  when 
Michael  is  elected,  Rudolf,  do  you  know  the  first 
thing  we  must  do  ? 

\Rudolf,  leaping  up  impetuous,  kisses  her.      Mary  springs 
from  him  and  looks  back  wrathfully^\ 

The  last  time,  the  very  last !  I  vow  it.  Now  I 
won't  speak  to  you  again  till  after  election  day. 

RUDOLF 

[  Calling  heaven  to  witnessl\ 
And  I  never  said  a  word ! 


10  MATER 

[Enter  MICHAEL  DEAN,  lower  left.  He  is  without  his  coat — 
in  his  shirt  sleeves.  With  both  hands  clasped  behind 
his  head,  he  strides  across  the  room,  and  paces  back  and 
forth,  oblivious  of  Mary  and  Rudolf. 

Mary  pauses  in  her  own  mood  of  anger,  which  evaporates 
as  she  watches  him  with  eager  attention  and  some  little 

awe.~\ 

RUDOLF 

[Not  observing  Michael —  beseechingly.  ~\ 
Mary  !     Forget  it  —  please  !      I  won't  make  an 
other  — 

[Mary  raises  her  hand  to  Rudolf  in  stern  warning  of  silence 
—  looking  at  Michael,  who  in  his  pacings  comes  to  a 
standstill  in  front  of  her,  riveting  an  abstracted  gaze 
upon  her  face  as  if  it  were  far  away.] 

MARY 
Is  it  finished,  Michael  ?     All  thought  out  ? 

MICHAEL 
[Looks  at  her,  vaguely  quizzical,  biting  the  edge  of  his  thumb, .] 

Eh? 

MARY 

I  have  just  been  reading  your  "  Common  Sense  " 
with  Rudolf.  I  wish  in  your  next  campaign  speech 
you  would  sum  up  that  splendid  chapter  on  Liberty. 

MICHAEL 

Liberty,  my  dear  sir !     Where  did  you  find  it  ? 

MARY 

[Pointing  to  the  book.] 
Why,  there.  —  You're  not  ill  again  ? 


MA TER  1 1 

MICHAEL 

[Impatientlyl\ 
What,  what  ? 

MARY 

I'm  not  your  dear  sir,  you  know. 

MICHAEL 

[Drawing  a  deep  breath,  smiles  faintly '.] 
Hello,  sisterkin !  —  I  was  thinking  of  that  fellow 
Cullen. 

MARY 

Cullen  ! 

[  With  a  touch  of  embarrassment^ 
What  Mr.  Cullen  ? 

MICHAEL 
The  Honorable  Arthur ! 

MARY 

Honorable  ? 

MICHAEL 

Of    the  Ancient    and    Honorable    Fraternity    of 
Grafters  —  Grand  Master !  —  Hello,  Verbeck. 
[Gives  Rudolf  his  hand.~] 

RUDOLF 

[  Waving  the  volume  in  his  other  hand.~\ 
Say !     It's  real  meat. 

MICHAEL 
Have  you  tried  to  digest  it  ? 


12  MATER 

MARY 

You  mean  the  notorious  Cullen  of  the  legislature  ? 

MICHAEL 

To  whose  brotherhood  I  am  now  aspiring.    Heaven 
forgive  —  one  of  us  ! 

RUDOLF 

[With  vague  alarm.] 
Brotherhood  ?     You  - 

MICHAEL 
If  you  elect  me,  Rudolf. 

RUDOLF 

Oh,  that's  what  you  mean.     Well,  that's  what  I'm 
living  for. 

[  With  a  beseeching  look  toward  Mary>  who  keeps  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room.] 

—  Ask  Mary. 

MARY 
Is  he  in  your  way  ? 

MICHAEL 
[Absorbed  again] 
Who? 

MARY 

[Hesitatingly] 
Mr.  Cullen.     Is  he  obstructing  you  politically  ? 

MICHAEL 

That's  the  question.     The  Honorable  Arthur  has 
been  singularly  affable  to  me  —  lately. 


MATER  13 

RUDOLF 

[Looking  anxiously  at  Mary.] 
Lately  ?     More  than  usual  ? 

MICHAEL 

So  I've  noticed.  And  I  don't  like  it,  for  I  don't 
trust  him.  He  has  risen  in  life  by  what  his  friends 
call  a  sense  of  humor,  and  that,  if  I'm  not  mistaken, 
is  the  liveliest  endowment  of  the  Devil.  I'd  rather 
face  a  rhinoceros  than  an  ineradicable  smile.  —  That 
reminds  me  —  he's  to  call  me  up  this  morning  on  a 
matter  of  business. 

MARY 

He's/tfr  you  in  the  election  ? 

MICHAEL 

So  he  explained  —  with  his  smile.  His  influence 
is  to  go  my  way  —  for  my  father  the  Senator's  sake. 

MARY 
Did  Mr.  Cullen  know  father  ? 

MICHAEL 

Only  by  reputation — far  off.  Our  father,  I'm  sure, 
never  knew  Cullen. 

[Looking  up  at  the  portrait  on  the  wall.] 

There  was  a  man,  thank  God,  and  a  magician  !  He 
knew  how  to  pipe  the  rats  from  their  nests  in  the  na 
tion,  and  to  purge  the  temple  of  the  state  without 
fouling  his  own  fingers.  Give  me  to  be  like  him. 


14  MATER 

—  Mary,  does  it  seem  possible  that  he  has  gone 
from  us  :  one  year  ago  to-day ! 

MARY 

But  you  live  on  —  to  finish  his  work. 

MICHAEL 

Finish  ?     It  has  no  end. 

RUDOLF 

Yes,  old  fellow.  When  you're  in  office,  there'll  be 
something  doing ! 

MICHAEL 

Something  doing !  So  what  will  be  doing  —  Eh  ? 
—  when  I'm  in  office? 

RUDOLF 

Something  big,  that's  sure. 

MICHAEL 

"  Big,"  and  "  something."  Just  what  doesn't  mat 
ter,  I  suppose,  so  long  as  it's  big  ? 

RUDOLF 

I  mean  you'll  keep  things  busy. 

MICHAEL 

"Busy"  —  of  course!  Big,  Busy,  Barnum  and 
Bailey  —  all  with  a  B !  Get  into  the  circus,  states 
men,  three  rings  and  a  loop-the-loop  —  and  keep  the 
public  guessing ! 


MATER  15 

By  Heaven,  Verbeck,  I  believe  there  arex  no  more 
dangerous  citizens  than  just  such  good  fools  as  you. 
You  pay  for  your  seat  at  the  show  —  Bang!  goes 
the  clown's  head  through  the  hoop.  Spin!  goes  your 
hat  in  the  air,  and  "Hurrah!"  you  bawl;  "Even  so 
God  created  the  world  and  the  solar  system." 

\_He  begins  to  pace  back  and  forth  again  and  speaks  with 
vehement  swiftness.~\ 

"Something  doing."  It's  the  quack  showman's 
motto  of  the  age !  Under  that  banner,  we  harvest 
a  million  acres  of  wheat  to  fill  a  hundred  millions  of 
mouths,  and  we  rear  up  the  mouths  to  be  filled  with 
the  wheat.  Under  that  banner,  we  move  a  continent 
of  freight  cars  to  consume  steel  rails,  and  we  disem 
bowel  the  continent  for  steel  to  move  the  freight  cars. 
Under  that  banner,  we  fell  mountains  of  forest  to 
feed  a  myriad  presses  with  Sunday  editions,  and  we 
set  up  a  myriad  presses  to  devour  the  wood-pulp. 
"  Something  doing !  "  Motion,  my  friend.  Motion  is 
the  God  of  such  as  you,  and  so  far  as  you  can,  you 
make  yourselves  in  his  image. 

He's  a  glorious  Titan  —  your  Motion!  His  brow 
is  of  gold  and  his  bowels  of  brass ;  his  biceps  of  iron 
and  his  thighs  of  silver.  His  beard  is  black  smoke. 
His  heart  is  pure  steel.  Within  his  head  he  has  a 
billion  wheels,  and  when  he  opens  his  mouth  to  speak 
through  his  beard,  the  clang  of  his  voice  is  the  noise 
thereof. 

Look  in  the  morning  above  the  cities,  and  you  shall 
see  his  hair  obscuring  the  day,  and  his  eyes  like  arc 


1 6  MATER 

lights.  In  the  palm  of  one  hand  he  holds  the  great 
god  Pan  —  no  taller  than  a  pigmy;  and  in  the  other 
fist  he  clutches  a  worm  called  Man.  "  Behold  me !  " 
he  cries  to  the  heavens ;  "  even  from  this  worm  have 
I  arisen,  and  even  to  this  stature  have  I  grown  be 
yond  this  pigmy.  Behold  me,  you  sun  and  moon ! 
Am  I  not  Busy?  Am  I  not  Big?  I  am  the  Lord  of 
Hosts  —  I  am  Prosperity !  lam  — 

MATER* 

[Entering."] 

Button !  Button !     Who's  got  the  button  ? 

MICHAEL 

[  Glaring  desperately  as  she  approaches  with  his  coat.~\ 
Mater,  Mater,  how  you  do  interrupt ! 

MATER 

Boy,  you  carried  off  the  button  in  your  pocket. 
[Feels  in  his  pockets  and  finds  it.~\ 

MICHAEL 
Damn  the  button ! 

MATER 

Shh  !  Remember  this  afternoon !  You  can't  ad 
dress  the  Reform  Club  with  a  whole  heart  —  and 
one  button  missing. 

*  She  appears  in  the  doorway,  —  lower  left  —  holding  Michael's 
coat,  a  needle  and  thread.  Upon  her  blond,  wavy  hair  is  a  wreath 
of  daffodils,  and  she  wears  a  fresh  becoming  gown  of  yellow  and  buff. 


MATER  \>J 

MICHAEL 

I  can  address  the  universe  in  my  night-shirt,  if  I 
like.     Give  me  the  coat. 

MATER 

\_Helping  him  on  with  it.~\ 
Of  course ;  put  it  on.     That's  much  better. 
[He  starts  to  walkaway.     Catching  her  needle  and  thread 
through  the  front  of  his  coat,  she  begins  to  sew  on  the 
button.~\ 

Now  go  right  ahead,  dear.     I  can  listen  beautifully 
while  I  sew. 

MICHAEL 
[  Gloomily '.] 
Here's  a  prophet  in  his  own  country ! 

MARY 

{Approaching  Mater,  looks  particularly  hard  at  her  wreath, 
speaking  sternly  I\ 

How  could  you,  mother! 

MATER 

{Sewing,  as  Michael — his  hands   in  his  pockets  —  turns 

awayJ] 

I  can't —  very  well. 

RUDOLF 
You  sized  me  up  pretty  small,  Dean. 

MICHAEL 

Did  I  ?     Forgive  me ;  I'm  tired, 
c 


18  MATER 

MATER 

\With  a  glance  of  solicitude^ 
Tired,  boy  ? 
[She  sits  on  a  chair  beside  Michael,  sewing  on  the  button .] 

RUDOLF 

That's  all  right.  But  I  didn't  catch  your  drift,  just. 
Next  time  I  start  something  doing,  how  am  I  to  know 
whether  it's  right  or  wrong  ? 

MICHAEL 

The  only  test  of  right  and  wrong  is  common  sense. 

MATER 

So  it  is,  dear.     There's  my  own  philosopher. 

RUDOLF 

Well,  then,  ain't  it  common  sense  for  us  Americans 
to  develop  our  national  resources  ? 

MICHAEL 

Yes,  so  long  as  we,  as  a  nation,  develop  them  to 
the  one  common-sense  end. 

RUDOLF 

What's  that?      , 

MICHAEL 

National  happiness;  nothing  else. 

RUDOLF 
Why,  of  course.     That's  why  we're  all  in  business. 


MATER  19 

MICHAEL 

Is  it?  I  think  not.  You're  in  business — for  busi 
ness  ;  nothing  else.  You  see  to  the  end  of  your  nose 
and  then  your  eyes  cross.  So  the  huge  world  of  busi 
ness,  in  which  you  are  an  atom,  careens  in  a  vast 
orbit  of  itself  —  chasing  forever  the  end  of  existence, 
as  a  kitten  the  end  of  its  tail. 

RUDOLF 

Hmm  !  I  don't  see  it.  Why,  man,  nothing  can 
stop  us  from  going  it,  just  like  we  are  —  only  more 
so.  It's  Destiny ;  and  I  say,  it's  great.  Don't  you  ? 

MICHAEL 

What's  great  ? 

RUDOLF 

Just  being  America.  And  since  it's  great,  why 
then  —  wheat  and  steel,  people  and  towns,  the  more 
the  merrier. 

MICHAEL 

The  more  indeed  —  if  it  be  the  merrier.  But  no 
more  —  if  it  be  not  the  merrier.  The  need  of  our 
country  to-day  is  not  more  towns,  but  happier  towns  ; 
not  more  men,  but  happier  men ;  not  life  itself,  unless 
it  be  life  worth  living. 

RUDOLF 

Oh,  come,  Dean.  You  know  you  want  America 
to  be  the  greatest  nation  on  the  globe. 

MICHAEL 

I  do  !  I  want  America  to  be  the  Hercules  —  not 
the  megatherium  —  of  the  nations. 


20  MATER 

RUDOLF 

The  mega  —  which  ? 

MATER 

[Rising,  and  puffing  aside  her  sewing  materials^ 
Now,  baby  boy,  you're  a  poet. 

MICHAEL 

[  With  a  gesture  of  chagrin,  sits  in  the  chair  she  has  just 

left.] 

Then  let  me  be  exiled.  Poets !  Your  old  friend 
Plato  had  one  good  idea,  —  he  banished  all  poets  from 
his  Republic.  The  whole  pack  of  'em  have  been 
bitten  with  mad  words  and  got  the  logomania.  They 
should  be  muzzled. 

\Mater  comes  behind  the  chair  and,  while  he  continues  talk 
ing,  hovers  over  him,  smoothes  his  coat  collar,  takes 
some  threads  off  his  shoulder,  sleeks  his  hair  with  her 
hands  and,  taking  her  scissors,  snips  some  wry  locks 
over  his  ears.  ] 

Whenever  the  times  are  in  gloom  or  panic,  each 
breed  has  his  own  bark:  Inalienable  Rights!  —  Return 
to  Nature  !  —  The  Truth  of  Beauty  !  — The  Point  of 
View !  —  The  Voice  of  Conscience  !  — You  may  hear 
them  baying  in  chorus,  tenor  and  basso,  from  stump 
and  bar  and  inkpot  and  pulpit  —  these  moon-dogs  of 
the  nation  —  while  the  people  run  to  and  fro,  crying 
"  Saved ! "  But  none  yet  ever  has  voiced  the  excel 
lent  salvation  of  Common  sense.  [Leaping  tipJ] 
—  What  on  earth  are  you  doing,  Mater  ? 


MATER  21 

MATER 

[Standing  beside  the  empty  chair,  clicks  her  shears  and  bows 
toward  Mary y  with  the  urbanity  of  a  hairdresser.] 

Next ! 

MARY 

Oh,  this  is  too  bad.     You  keep  spoiling  it  all. 

MATER 
{Trilling  her  r>s  a  la  Frangais.] 

Ah,  Madame,  but  with  a  pretty  pompadour  and  a 
little  rat's  nest  inside,  n'est  ce  pas  ? 

[She  rumples  Mary's  hair  with  her  fingers.] 

MARY 

[Escaping from  her.~] 
Mother,  why  haven't  you  a  little  maturity  ? 

MATER 

[Pensively. ~\ 

I  suppose  I  gave  birth  to  it  all,  dear,  when  you 
were  born. 

MARY 

If  only  you  wouldn't  break  in  on  serious  discus 
sions.  You  know  you  know  nothing  of  politics.  — 
Where  are  those  infants'  clothes  for  the  Orphans' 
Home  ? 

MATER 

The  little  night-gowns  ?  They're  loves  !  I've  fin 
ished  them. 


22  MATER 

MARY 

Pack  them  up,  please.     I  promised  them  for  the 
Alliance  meeting  this  afternoon. 

MATER 

[Going  to  the  closet.~\ 
I'll  show  them  to  you. 

{Opening  the  closet  door,  she  lifts  some  heaped  articles  of 
apparel,  and  lays  them  in  a  basket J] 

MICHAEL 

[Gazing  before  him,  ostensibly  speaking  to  Mary.'] 
Yes !      The   orchards    of    Reason   are   ripening : 
already  the  people  have  begun   to   pluck.     Out  of 
their  sufferings,  surely,  very  surely,  rises  the  sane 
revolution  of  joy. 

[  With  a  great  breath.'] 

And  I  shall  be  one  of  the  Orchard-keepers !     One 
of  the  vindicators  of  philosophy  ! 

MATER 

[Approaching  with  her  basket,  filled  with  baby-clothes,  smiles 
quaintly  at  MichaelJ] 

"  How  charming  is  divine  philosophy  ! 
Not  harsh  and  crabbed  as  dull  fools  suppose, 
But  musical  as  is  Apollo's  lute  —  " 

[Turning  and  presenting  the  basket J] 
Mary,  here  are  your  nighties. 

MARY 

[Starting  awayj] 
They're  not  mine  ! 


MATER  23 

MATER 

Really  ? 

\Holding  up  a  tiny  night-gown  with  drawers^ 
Rudolf,  are  they  yours  ? 

MARY 

[  Exaspera  ted.  ] 
Mater ! 

\Snatching  the  nightie.~\ 

That's  simply  —  impossible ! 

MATER 

There !     I  knew  it. 
[Bubbling  with  mirth,  she  puts  back  the  basket  in  the  closet] 

RUDOLF 

[Explaining,  with  obtuse  earnestness] 
She  means,  they're  for  the  Orphan  Asylum. 

MATER 

\_Beckoning  to  Rudolf,  looks  at  Mary  and  Michael.  The 
former  has  joined  her  brother  at  the  large  table,  where 
he  has  spread  some  manuscripts.  Beyond  them  hangs 
the  portrait  of  the  Senator] 

Rudolf,  look  at  them  —  both.     Can  you  see  them  — 
distinctly  ? 

RUDOLF 

[Mystified.] 
See  them  ? 

MATER 

Those  two  —  in  a  rosy  cloud  there. 


24  MATER 

RUDOLF 

You  mean  — 

MATER 

The  future  presidents  of  the  United  States  and 
Vassar  College !  Tell  me :  Can  you  guess  where  I 
ever  got  them  ? 

RUDOLF 

You  mean  — 

MATER 

Not  so  loud!  They  are  fairies — out  of  Mother 
Goose.  /  was  the  goose.  I  lived  in  an  old  little  barn 
yard,  under  a  hill.  Oh,  it  was  ages  ago ! 

•RUDOLF 
Do  you  mean  — 

MATER 
[Nodding  mysteriously^ 

'Way  back  in  New  England  —  on  the  sunshiny  side 
of  the  hill.  One  lone,  little,  yellow-feather,  sunny- 
weather  goose,  with  a  sky-blue  puddle  for  a  hand-glass. 
That  was  me!  Do  you  want  to  know  how  it  all 
happened  ? 

—  In  a  storm!  'Twas  spring  o'  the  year,  just  at 
equinox,  when  the  winds  ruffle  your  feathers  till  they 
show  the  white.  That's  why  I  turned  tail  for  home. 
But  before  I  could  reach  my  hand-glass,  there  he 
stood!  Tall  —  black  —  terrible  —  his  head  high  in 
the  thunder,  his  beautiful  eyes  in  the  darkness  — 
black,  an  ink-black  swan  ! 


MATER  25 

RUDOLF 

[In  a  low  voice,  looking  toward  the  portrait!] 
You  mean  — 

MATER 

[Nods  with  a  reminiscent  smile.'] 
Him.  —  My  dear,  fancy  it !     I  had  never  seen  even 
a  gander  before.     And  now,  in  a  glare  of  lightning 

—  that  wonderful  swan-dragon  !     For  his  feathers  in 
the  dark  were  fiery  scales ;  his  crest  was  like  purple 
iris ;  his  eyes  were  far  up  and  starry ;  and  when  he 
struck  at  the  storm  with  his  flashing  beak,  the  sky  was 
all  fire.  —  Just  a  clap  of  thunder,  and  the  hillside  was 
far  away.     On  his  great  black  wings  he  bore  me  high 
over  the  world,  and  we  lighted,  at  break  of  day,  on  the 
golden  dome  of  a  Capitol.  —  Heigho,  Mother  Goose ! 
Mother  Goose  !     In  the  shadow  of  the  golden  dome 
she  hatched  two  chicks,  and  —  will  you  believe  me  ? 

—  All  their  goosequills  were  ink-black. 

MICHAEL 

[Tugging  with  his  teeth  at  his  pen-holder. ~] 
Double  damnation  on  this  pen  ! 

MATER 
[To  Rudolf.'] 
Hush  !     He's  pulling  one  out  with  his  beak. 

MICHAEL 

First  it's  busted  and  now  it's  rusted  in. 
[Flinging  it  to  the  floor  and  rising.'] 


26  MATER 

How  many  times,  Mater,  have  I  asked  you  to  keep 
a  clean  new  pen  on  my  desk ! 

MATER 

Dear  swan-boy,  I  thought  — 

MICHAEL 

But  you  didn't  do  it.     I  want  one  ready  —  always 
ready. 

MATER 

[  Whimsically. ~\ 
Boy? 

MICHAEL 

I   know,    Mater,   but  bad    pens  are  used  only  in 
Purgatory. 

MATER 

[Going  closer  to  him.~\ 
Don't  you  like  daffodils  ?  —  Smell ! 

MICHAEL 

[Looks  down  at  the  wreath^\ 
What  ?    Where  did  you  get  them,  this  time  of  year  ? 

MATER 

You  know,  that  pleasant  gentleman  —  what's  his 
name  ? 

[Mary,  in  precipitate  haste,  reaches  over  and  pulls  Mater's 
gown.     Mater  turns  to  her.~\ 

Anything  wrong  with  my  skirt  ? 

\Mary,  glancing  toward  Rudolf,  makes  to  Mater  indescribable 
faces  of  cautionary  silence,  which  she  ignores^ 


MATER  27 

Oh,    of   course  ;   you   remember   it,    Mary,  —  Mr. 
Lucky,  or  Sullen,  or  — 

RUDOLF 


Who? 

MARY 

I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,  mother. 
And  I  don't  think  it  can  be  of  any  great  conse 
quence. 

MATER 

Of  course  not.  The  only  question  of  great  conse 
quence  in  all  the  world  at  this  minute  is  —  remem 
ber  it  ! 

[She  pauses,  raising  one  monitory  finger  as  in  grave  portent.~\ 

MICHAEL 

{Interested.] 

What  ? 

MATER 

[With  a  ripple  of  laughter,  throws  herself  into  his  arms.] 
Do  you  love  me  ? 

MICHAEL 
[Returning  her  hug] 

Ha,  little  Mater  !  You  are  good  for  nothing  but 
sewing  and  singing  — 

MATER 

[Playfully.] 
And  silliness  ! 

MICHAEL 
And  silliness. 


28  MATER 

MATER 

And  soap-bubble  castles ! 

MICHAEL 

And  chateaus  in  Spain  ! 

MATER 

\Wistfully  ^ 
And  nothing  else  ? 

MICHAEL 

And  nothing  else.     But  I  like  you  better  than  — 

MATER 

\_Quickly. ] 
Politics  I 

MICHAEL 

Better  even  than  politics  ! 

MATER 
I  don't  believe  it.     Prove  it. 

MICHAEL 

[Shrugs. ~\ 
How? 

MATER 

You  are  all  worn  out.  This  pen-holder  is  my  witness. 
Come  with  me  for  a  lark  in  the  country  —  for  one 
week. 

MICHAEL 

In  the  country  —  this  week!  And  every  day  a 
campaign  speech  till  election ! 


MATER  29 

MATER 

So  :  "  Better  than  politics  !  "  — perjurer ! 

MICHAEL 

Besides,  you  don't  understand.     If  you  want  me  to 
be  well,  if  that's  what  you're  after  — 

MATER 
\Passionately. ~\ 
It's  all  I'm  after. 

MICHAEL 

There's  one  sure  road  to  that. 

MATER 

Tell  me. 

MICHAEL 

I  must  be  elected. 

[  With  deep  vehemence.'} 
I  must  be  elected ! 

MATER 
[Troubled.'] 
And  if  you  shouldn't  be  ? 

MICHAEL 

Then  I  will  not  rest,  day  or  night,  till  I  am.  —  Not 
if  I  die  for  it ! 

MATER 
Don't,  Michael. 

MICHAEL 

I  know  the  goal,  I  know  the  path,  for  our  people. 


30  MATER 

I  have  pointed  out  the  goal  as  a  writer ;  I  must  help 
to  shape  the  path  as  a  representative ! 

MATER 
[Quietly.-] 
I  know.  —  You  are  like  him. 

MICHAEL 

Tell  me  that  I  am,  Mater.     It  heartens  me. 

MATER 

I  have  a  little  picture  of  him,  just  at  your  age. 

MICHAEL 
At  my  age  ? 

MATER 

[Lifting  from  the  table  a  little  gold-framed  mirror  holds 

it  close  to  Michael 's  face '.] 
Look. 

MICHAEL 

So  like  as  that  ? 

[Mater  hides  her  face  against  him.  ~\ 

I  thank  God  for  it.  The  world  shall  meet  him 
again  —  in  me.  Little  Mater,  there  is  a  vow  I  want 
to  make  aloud,  and  I  want  you  and  Mary  to  make 
it  with  me,  here  by  his  portrait,  as  I  remember 

him. 

MATER 

[Starting  back  with  a  frightened  look.} 
I  don't  like  vows. 

MICHAEL 
[Slowly.'} 
You  don't  like  vows  ? 


MATER  31 

MATER 

Good   people  never  keep  them.       That  is,   they 
oughtn't. 

MICHAEL 

Oughtn't ! 

MATER 

I  mean,  they  needn't.     You  see,  it  mortgages  the  * 
future  with  the  past. 

MICHAEL 

My  future  is  in  endless  debt  to  his  past. 

MATER 
Don't  say  that,  boy.     He —  he  wouldn't  like  it. 

MICHAEL 

Have  you  forgotten  what  day  it  is  ?     What  anni 
versary  ? 

MATER 

Oh,  I  hate  anniversaries. 

MICHAEL 
But  to-day  —  the  reminder  of  — 

MATER 

Not  of  that !    He  was  never  that.    He  was  life.    He 
was  always  life.          K 

MICHAEL 

That's  my  vow  —  our  vow,  Mater.     Come  ! 


32  MATER 

MATER 

[Hesitant.] 

I'd  rather  —  will  it  please  you  ? 

MICHAEL 

[  With  startled  sadness.'] 
Will  it  not  —  you  ? 

MATER 
[Cheerfully.] 
Oh,  very  much  indeed ! 

[To  Mary,  drawing  her  affectionately.'] 
Come,  my  other  swan  ! 

[Hugging  them  both.] 
Dear,  incredible  twins ! 

MARY 

[  With  an  impulsive  caress,~\ 
Liebes  Miitterchen ! 

MICHAEL 

[Looking  up  at  the  portrait,  speaks  simply '.] 
Father,  one  year  ago  the  vision  fell  from  your 
eyes,  the  power  from  your  hand.  To-day  I  take  up 
both  and  restore  them  to  you  in  myself.  And  my 
self  I  dedicate,  as  you  dedicated  yourself,  to  our 
country's  leadership.  The  way  is  open  at  last.  In 
this  campaign  my  career  begins — without  fetters  and 
without  deceit.  Uncompromisingly  I  will  walk  in 
your  clean  path,  uncompromisingly  these  women 
will  help  me  in  this  vow. 

[Turning  with  emotion  to  Mater  and  MaryJ] 


MATER  33 

Won't  you  ? 

\_Mater  and  Mary  go  to  him  affectionately.  As  they  do  so  the 
telephone  on  the  desk  before  them  rings.  Michael  sits  and 
lifts  the  receiver.~\ 

Oh,  it's  you,  Cullen.     Good  morning. 

MATER 

Why,  it's  that  delightful  — 

MARY 
Hush,  mother ! 

MICHAEL 
[At  the  telephone.] 

What's  that  ?     Yes,  I  can  see  you.     You'd  like  me 
to  decide  to-day.     Well,  what's  the  proposition  ? 

[A  pause.     Michael's  brow  suddenly  knits,  and  with  his  right 
hand  he  crushes  some  papers  on  the  table] 

—  Four  thousand  dollars.  And  you  want  me  —  Con 
sidering  the  what  ?  —  Oh,  the  great  consequences.  A 
trifle,  of  course  !  —  You  will  explain  ?  I  think,  sir, 
it  will  be  necessary.  —  The  sooner  the  better.  —  An 
alternative,  you  say.  What  is  it  ?  —  I  see  ;  you  will 
explain.  —  Yes,  she  is  at  home.  What  of  it  ? 

RUDOLF 
{Starting] 
Who's  at  home  ? 

{Mater  smiles  at  Mary.     Mary  turns  away] 


34  MATER 

MICHAEL 

—  What?     I  don't  catch   it.      Oh,  very  well.  —  In 
quarter  of  an  hour ;  all  right. 

\_He  hangs  up  the  receiver.] 

MATER 

Be  careful ;  you're  crumpling  your  nice  manu 
scripts. 

\_Michael  rises  and  lets  the  crushed  papers  slip  scattering  from 
his  hand] 

MICHAEL 

I  see.  They  will  initiate  me  —  behind  closed  doors. 
I  shall  be  a  knight  of  their  secret  order  —  one  of  the 
mighty  oligarchs  of  our  democracy.  God !  It  was 
almost  mine,  I  had  almost  touched  it,  and  now  — 
contamination !  contamination  ! 

[ffe  staggers  and  sinks  into  a  chair. ~] 

MATER 

[Bending  over  him.~\ 
Boy,  what  is  it  ? 

[Mary  and  Rudolf  come  near  on  either  side.~\ 

MARY 

[To  Rudolf.] 
Some  brandy. 

MICHAEL 

[With  a  gesture.] 
No. 

MATER 

Your  work  is  wearing  you  out,  dear. 


MATER 


35 


MICHAEL 

\_Looking  at  the  three, ,] 
My  work  is  stopped  —  for  the  present. 

MATER 

Thank  heaven ! 

MICHAEL 

I  am  not  to  be  elected. 

MARY 

Michael ! 

RUDOLF 

Gad! 

MICHAEL 

Not  this  year. 

\_Itising.~] 

But  I  will  be  elected  at  last ! 

MATER 

What  has  happened?     What  did  that  charming 
Mr.  Cullen  want  of  you  ? 

MICHAEL 
A  little  matter  of  four  thousand  dollars. 

MARY 
For  what  ? 

MICHAEL 

To  make  a  very  old  mare  go. 

MARY 

A  mare ! 


36  MATER 

MICHAEL 

You  never  heard  of  the  all-party  mascot  ?  Why, 
she's  an  old  stager.  She  helped  to  pull  the  Congres 
sional  coach  in  pioneer  days,  and  to-day  she  is 
hitched  to  the  campaign  band-wagon.  Her  off  eye 
winks ;  three  legs  of  her  are  black,  and  all  four  are 
game.  But  she's  a  live  old  mare  yet,  is  old  Bribery. 

MATER 

[  Who  has  been  counting  on  her  finger sl\ 
Four  thousand  you  said  ?    That's  not  so  much. 

MICHAEL 
Considering  the  great  consequences  —  a  trifle  ! 

MATER 
{Jubilantly^ 
Don't  worry,  boy.     I've  got  it. 

MICHAEL 

[Darkly.] 
What? 

MATER 
I've  got  — 

\_Aware  of  his  contracting  brows~\ ; 
—  an  idea.     /  will  see  Mr.  Cullen.     [X 

MICHAEL 

See  Cullen?— You! 


MATER  37 

MATER 

Woman  to  man,  you  know. 

MICHAEL 

What  in  nonsense  do  you  mean  by  woman  to  man  ? 

MATER 

Oh,  just  Eve  and  Adam  and  all  that. 

MICHAEL 

Mater,   are   you   daft — or   aren't   you   grown-up 
yet? 

MATER 

Forty-four  next  month,  my  dear.     Is    Mr.  Cullen 
coming  this  morning? 

MICHAEL 
He  is.     What  can  you  have  to  say  to  him  ? 

MATER 

I  shall  say  to  him  that  you  have  nervous  dyspepsia, 
and  he  must  elect  you  immediately. 

MICHAEL 

And  for  this  you'll  hand  him  a  cheque  for  four 
thousand  dollars  ? 

MATER 
[  With  naivete.~\ 

Not  all  in  a  cheque.     The  money's  mostly  in  Sav 
ings  Banks. 


38  MATER 

MICHAEL 


And  you  were  married  to  father  for  twenty-six 
years  ! 

,         \_He  walks  away.~\ 

MATER 

And,  my  dear,  while  he  was  in  the  Senate,  I  helped 
him  out  of  many  such  pickles. 

MICHAEL 
[  Turning  fiercely."] 

Mater  !  Not  like  this  !  You  never  paid  money  for 
father  in  a  case  like  this  ! 

MATER 

No  ;  he  never  would  let  me.  That's  just  the  way 
he  would  scowl.  But  then  I  contrived  somehow,  and 
it  always  came  out  all  right. 

MICHAEL 

Somehow  !     What  do  you  mean  ? 

MATER 

Why,  your  father,  you  know,  could  see  only  one 
right  thing  at  a  time  ;  but  I  always  manage  to  see 
several  points  of  view. 

MICHAEL 

Points  of  view  are  perdition. 


MATER  39 

MATER 

So  he  told  me. 

MICHAEL 

A  given  act  must  be  right  or  wrong  ;  not  both. 

MATER 

Common  sense  or  nonsense,  of  course !     So  when 
ever  I  found  some  necessary  little  compromise  — 

MICHAEL 

Compromise !  —  And  father  knew  of  this  ? 

MATER 
[Startled  at  his  voice.~\ 

Oh,  never  at  the  time.     I  always  told  him  after 
wards,  and  then  we'd  make  up. 

MICHAEL 

This  is   terrible.     "  Afterwards  !  "     How  could  he 
make  up  !     I  can't  bear  it. 

[Going  toward  the  door,  lower  left.~\ 

Let  me  know  when  Cullen  arrives.     And  here  — 

[Indicating  some  newspaper  clippings  on  the  tabkl\ 

Please  attend  to  these.     Come,  Mary ;  I  must  talk 
with  you  —  upstairs. 

[Pausing  at  the  door,  which  Mary  opens.'} 

Mater,    one   thing    you   must    promise   me   now : 
Never  to  meddle  in  my  career  without  my  knowl- 


4<D  MATER 

edge.  I  ask  your  loving  help ;  but  not  your  loving 
subterfuge.  Promise  me,  once  and  forever,  never 
to  deceive  me  in  this. 

MATER 
Boy,  I  promise  you,  work-bells  and  kirk-bells  1 

MICHAEL 
[Pointing  to  the  portrait."] 

Remember  our  vow  —  there.     I   will   see   Cullen 
when  he  comes. 

[Exeunt  MICHAEL  and  MARY.] 

MATER 
[Looks  after  them,  humming  low  and  tapping  with  her  foot.] 

Dear,  dear !     Dear,  dear ! 

[She  bursts  into  soft  laughter.     Rudolf  approaches  and  looks 
at  her  with  earnest  perplexity, ,] 

RUDOLF 
Mrs.  Dean  — 

MATER 
[Starting.] 

Nonsense,  Rudolf.     Call  me  Mater.     You'll  be  my 
son  in  a  jiffy. 

[As  she  talks  with  Rudolf,  Mater  moves  lightly  about  the 
room.  Picking  up  the  crumpled  sheets  of  manuscript, 
she  smoothes  them  out,  puts  a  new  pen  in  the  holder,  ex 
amines  the  packet  of  clippings  and  places  them  in  an 
open  scrap-book  on  the  table.'] 


MATER  41 

RUDOLF 

Thanks,  Mrs.  —  Mater.  But  that's  just  what  keeps 
me  guessing.  This  morning,  Mary  told  me  right  here 
that  compared  to  this  book 

[Slamming  down  Michael's  volume  on  the  tablel\ 

and  her  brother's  career,  our  marriage  was  a  very 
trifling  concern. 

MATER 

Did  she  say  that  ?     Oh,  delicious  ! 

RUDOLF 

Delicious  !  She  said  that  her  work  is  to  make  hu 
manity  in  America  — 

MATER 

Of  course  it  is.  Her  work  is  to  get  married  to  you, 
and  make  American  sons  and  daughters. 

RUDOLF 

She  won't  get  married,  she  says,  till  her  brother  is 
elected.  You  know  when  she  sets  her  teeth,  she 
hangs  on  hard. 

MATER 

I  know.  I  call  her  Molly  Mud-turtle ;  she  pokes 
so  in  her  slums,  and  snaps  when  you  pull  her  out. 

RUDOLF 

She  snapped  me  all  right  this  morning.  Said  she 
wouldn't  speak  to  me  again  till  after  election.  I 
wonder !  That  political  fellow  on  the  telephone  — 


42  MA TER 

Michael  said  to  him :  "  She's  at  home."     Who  do 
they  call  she  ? 

MATER 

The  Ship,  stupid! 

RUDOLF 

Ship! 

MATER 

Ship  of  State,  you  know.     Whenever  Michael  con 
verses  with  politicians,  he  talks  their  dialect. 

RUDOLF 

Say,  Mater,  you're  a  great  fixer.     Please  fix  it  up 
with  Mary  for  me,  won't  you  ? 

MATER 
Never  fear,  fond  lover ! 

When  fair  wind  blows 

The  weather-cock  crows. 
I'll  send  you  a  fair  wind. 

RUDOLF 
Well,  I  must  light  out. 

[From  the  hall.} 

And  listen,  Mater,  he's  got  to  be  elected.     Fix 
that,  too. 

MATER 

[Waving  to  him} 
That,  too. 

{Exit  RUDOLF  by  the  stairs."} 


MATER  43 

[Bringing  a  pot  of  paste  to  the  table,  Mater  undoes  the 
packet  of  clippings  and  begins  to  arrange  some  in  the 
scrap-book. 

Enter  MARY,   left.      With  flashing   eyes,   she    approaches 
Mater,  looking  at  her  wreath.~\ 

MARY 
Those  daffodils ! 

MATER 

What !     Are  they  wilting  ? 

MARY 
He  sent  them  to  me. 

MATER 
And  you  threw  them  away. 

MARY 

Of  course  I  threw  them  away.     You  think  I  care 

for  him  f 

MATER 

Don't  you  ?     I  dote  on  him.     He  has  such  a  Uto 
pian  sense  of  humor.     So  foreign  to  our  family ! 

MARY 
Why,  he's  a  grafter — a  corrupt  villain ! 

MATER 

Really  ?     Now  to  me,  my  dear,  his  smile  quite  dis 
infects  his  character. 

[Looking  in  the  hand-glass  at  her  wreathl\ 
Nonsense ;  they're  as  fresh  as  ever. 


44  MATER 

MARY 

You  surely  know  that  he's  Michael's  worst  enemy. 

MATER 

sf  I  didn't  know  that  was  settled.     Then  it  is  par 

ticularly  important  I  should  like  him,  isn't  it  ? 

MARY 

Oh,  mother,  you  have  no  more  logic  than  an  in 
fant.  And  look  at  you  there  in  that  dress,  and  those 
daffodils !  I  don't  wonder  he  made  that  ridiculous 
mistake  when  he  met  you  and  me  at  the  Robinsons' 
dinner  party.  I'm  sure  I  really  feel  complimented. 

MATER 

I  knew  you  would,  Mary.  That's  why  I  appro 
priated  these  flowers  he  sent  here  addressed  to  "  Miss 
Dean."  They  just  suit  my  hair.  And  I  know  when 
I  tell  Rudolf  — 

MARY 

[Flushing.^ 

If  you  dare !  Do  you  think  that  I  want  Rudolf  to 
know  that  Mr.  Cullen  mistook  me  for  your  mother? 

MATER 

Me  rather,  for  your  daughter,  my  dear.  I  don't 
remember  that  he  paid  you  any  attention,  except  to 
notice  your  spectacles  and  your  elderly  black  gown. 


MATER  45 

MARY 

Elderly  !  I  declare  you  should  be  ashamed,  mother, 
—  under  the  cirumstances  —  not  to  wear  mourning. 

MATER 

\With  deep  feeling,  simply '.] 
You  see,  dear,  I  hate  black  —  and  all  it  means. 

MARY 

No,  I  don't  see  anything  you  mean.  You  are  ab 
solutely  immature  and  provoking.  And  those  night 
gowns  —  mine  !  And  Rudolf  standing  right  by  ! 
Oh,  it's  too  much. 

MATER 

But,  my  dear,  they  were  darlings ! 

MARY 

\Shrilly,  stopping  her  earsJ] 

Be  quiet !  Since  you  can't  reason,  I  must  ask  you 
to  make  me  a  promise. 

MATER 

It's  my  pet  avocation,  child. 

MARY 

Don't  call  me  "  child  "  ;  it's  ridiculous.  You're 
just  a  spoilt  one  yourself.  Please  listen.  I'm  ashamed 
to  have  any  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Cullen.  Rudolf 
doesn't  know  I  went  to  that  dinner  party.  Michael's 
forgotten  it.  Now  promise  me,  mother,  you  will  never 
tell  either  one  of  them  that  I've  met  Mr.  Cullen. 


46  MATER 

MATER 

[  Crossing  herself  solemnly^ 
Never  —  never  —  never ! 

MARY 

[Goes  impetuously  and  kisses  her.} 
I  forgive  you.     Now  do  behave  ! 
[She  hurries  off,  left] 

MATER 

[Affectionately. ~\ 
Twins !  twins ! 

[She  laughs  to  herself;  then,  as  a  shade  passes  over  her  face, 
turns  slowly  and  walks  toward  the  piano-seat,  pausing 
an  instant  to  glance  up  at  the  portrait.  ~\ 

Michael  dear ! 

[She  sits  at  the  piano,  touches  the  keys  and  sings] 

Long  ago,  in  the  young  moonlight, 

I  lost  my  heart  to  a  hero ; 
Strong  and  tender  and  stern  and  right, 
Darker  than  night,  % 

And  terribler  than  Nero. 

Heigh,  but  he  was  dear,  O ! 

And  there,  to  bind  our  fellowship, 

I  laughed  at  him  ;  and  a  moment  after, 

I  laughed  again  till  he  bit  his  lip  ; 
For  the  test  of  love  is  laughter. 

[As  she  sings  on,  the  door-bell  rings  below,  unheard  by  her.~\ 


MATER  47 

"  Lord  and  master,  look  up  ! "  I  cried; 

"  I  wreathe  your  brow  with  a  laurel ! 
Gloom  and  wisdom  and  right  and  pride — - 
Cast  them  aside, 

And  kiss,  and  cure  our  quarrel. 

Never  mind  the  moral ! " 

Alas !  with  strange  and  saddened  eyes 

He  looked  on  me  ;  and  my  mirth  grew  dafter, 

To  feel  the  flush  of  his  dark  surprise ; 
For  the  zest  of  love  is  laughter. 

£  While  she  continues,  there  comes  up  the  stairway  into  the 
hall  a  handsome  man  of  early  middle  age.  He  enters, 
unnoticed  by  her  ;  softly  approaches — smiling  slightly 
—  until  he  stands  behind  the  piano-seat.'] 

Long  ago,  in  the  old  moonlight, 

I  lost  my  hero  and  lover ; 
Strong  and  tender  and  stern  and  right, 
Never  shall  night 

Nor  day  his  brow  uncover. 

Ah,  my  heart,  that  is  over ! 

Yet  still,  for  joy  of  the  fellowship 

That  bound  us  both  through  the  years  long  after, 
I  laugh  to  think  how  he  bit  his  lip ; 
For  the  test  of  love  — 
And  the  best  of  love  —  is  laughter. 

[Finishing,  Mater  remains  sitting  in  a  revery.  Behind  her, 
the  man  lightly  touches  the  flowers  on  her  hair.] 


48  MATER 

THE  MAN 

Was  it  a  fragrance,  or  a  song  ? 

MATER 

[Springing  up,  steps  back  in  startled  reserve} 
Mr.  Cullen  ! 

CULLEN 

The  maid  told  me  to  walk  up,  Miss  Dean.     I  had 
no  right  to  listen,  but  the  daffodils  made  me  bold. 

MATER 
Oh,  the  daffodils ! 

CULLEN 

{.Smiling.'} 
You  see, 

"  I  wandered  lonely  as  a  cloud  — 

When  all  at  once  "  — 

It   is   gracious   of   you   to  wear  them  —  and  like 
that. 

MATER 

I  didn't  know  they  taught  Wordsworth  in  the  legis 
lature. 

CULLEN 

You  are  fond  of  yellow  ? 

MATER 

Very  ;  it's  so  becoming. 

CULLEN 

To  pure  gold ! 


MA TER  49 

MATER 

Oh,  you've  come  to  talk  business  ! 

CULLEN 

With  your  brother,  Miss  Dean. 

MATER 
[Starting.] 
My  brother  ?  —  To  be  sure ! 

CULLEN 

\_Takingfrom  his  pocket  a  large  envelope.] 
I  have  brought  him  some  papers  —  memoranda  in 
regard  to  the  election. 

MATER 

I  remember  now.  —  How  soon  is  he  to  be  elected  ? 

CULLEN 
[Smiling.'] 

Well,  that  may  depend  upon  how  soon  he  is  willing 
to  receive  these  papers. 

MATER 
How  nice  of  you !     Then  it's  all  settled. 

CULLEN 
I  think  we  may  have  to  confer  —  first 

MATER 

Don't  trouble,  I'll  hand  them  to  him. 

E 


50  MATER 

CULLEN 

I'm  afraid  he  might  not  accept  them  —  without  ex 
planation. 

MATER 
[Cordially.'] 
Mightn't  7  explain  that  you'd  like  him  to  ? 

CULLEN 

My  dear  Miss  Dean,  you  are  delightfully  apropos. 
I  really  think  you  might.  The  whole  matter,  you  see, 
is  comprised  in  —  in  what  one  might  call,  in  politics 
or  philosophy,  the  point  of  view. 

MATER 

Yes,  I've  heard  him  mention  that  phrase,  very 
earnestly. 

CULLEN 


Have  you  !     That  doesn't  sound  promising. 

MATER 

Really  ?    Why,  what  are  the  papers  ? 

CULLEN 

Let  me  be  perfectly  clear.  The  daughter  of  a 
Senator  will  doubtless  understand.  They  are  pledges 
from  certain  powerful  quarters  —  quite  informal 
pledges  —  of  votes  for  your  brother's  election,  pro 
vided  he  can  see  his  way  in  assisting  the  campaign 
fund  to  the  extent,  say,  of  four  thousand  dollars.  En- 


MATER  51 

tirely,  of  course,  for  necessary  expenses.     A  simple 
business  proposition,  as  you  see.     Do  you  catch  the 

—  the  point  of  view  ? 

MATER 

Yes,  I  think,  as  you  say,  I  catch. 

CULLEN 
[Laughing] 

Did  I  say  "  catch  "  ?  How  unnecessary  !  Well, 
and  do  you  think  you  can  persuade  your  brother  to — 
also  to  — 

MATER 

No,  I'm  certain  he  would  muff. 
[Confidentially] 

You  see  he's  much  younger  than  I. 
[  Cullen  lifts  his  eyebrows] 

And  he's  had  as  yet  so  little  knowledge  of  men  and 
real  life  from  the  practical  —  what  do  you  call  it  ?  — 
point  of  view. 

CULLEN 

On  my  word ! 

MATER 

And  besides  that 

[  With  maternal  confidingness.] 

—  he's  so  tired!     You've  no  idea  what  insomnia!  — 
We  must  be  extremely  careful  not  to  let  him  think 
too  hard.     So,  you  see,  I'm  sure  we  had  better  not 
mention  the  papers  to  him  at  all. 


52  MATER 

CULLEN 

[Turning  toward  the  halll\ 

That's  a  pity.  I  was  looking  forward  so  much  to 
his  becoming  my  colleague  in  the  legislature. 

MATER 

[Following^ 

Oh,  you  needn't  let  anything  interfere  with  that. 

CULLEN 

[  Whose  eyes  have  constantly  watched  Mater  with  fascination^ 
These  papers,  believe  me,  are  the  obstacles,  not  I. 

MATER 

I  have  it,  then  !  Why  not  tear  them  up  and  stay 
to  lunch  ? 

CULLEN 

[  With  mingled  ardor  and  grandiloquence^ 
Do  you  say  that  ?     You  ?  —  Dear  Miss  Dean,  say  it 
once  more,  and  I  will  tear  these  to  shreds  and  throw 
them  into  oblivion. 

MATER 

[Catching  her  breath.'] 
Gracious ! 

CULLEN 

\_Checking  himself ^\ 

You  see,  these  represent,  now,  a  matter  of  business 
between  business  men ;  but  if,  instead,  all  this  were  — 
may  I  say  it,  dear  Miss  Dean  —  were  in  one  family  — 


MATER  53 

MATER 
[Playing  with  the  hand-glass  on  the  table."} 

Dear  me ! 

CULLEN 

Between  brothers  — 

MATER 

Brothers  ! 
[ffer  mouth  twitching,  she  turns  the  glass  and  glances  at  her 

reflection.] 
That  is  an  idea. 

CULLEN 

Then,  you  see,  the  case  would  be  utterly  changed. 

MATER 

[  Glancing  up] 
Oh,  utterly ! 

CULLEN 

Young  Dean  — that  is,  Michael —  and  I  would  then 
have  but  one  interest  and  ambition.  And  of  course 
there  would  be  no  need  for  even  mentioning  business 
between  us. 

MATER 

Of  course  not.  I  hadn't  thought  of  that  before  — 
really ! 

CULLEN 

\_Smiling  enthralled] 

But  you'll  think  of  it  now,  and  —  invite  me  to 
lunch  again  ? 

\Looking  at  her,  he  lifts  the  large  envelope,  about  to  tear  i*. 
She  stops  him  with  a  gesture] 


54 


MATER 


MATER 

Just  a  minute  !     Mayn't  I  see  them  ? 

\_Cullen  shakes  his  head.~\ 

And  you  are  absolutely  sure  that  Michael's  election 
depends  on  the  papers  in  that  envelope  ? 

CULLEN 

On  pledges  which  they  informally  stand  for  —  ab 
solutely. 

MATER 

[  Turning  away  her  head  to  hide  a  swift  frown  of  perplexity, 
pauses,  lifts  the  hand-glass  again,  smiles  wickedly,  crosses 
herself,  turns  backward  her  face  to  the  right,  looks  at 
Cullen  and  the  envelope,  and  reaches  back  (right)  her  left 
hand  across  her  shoulder.] 

Please !      Over    my    right    shoulder !      Just    for 
luck? 

CULLEN 

{Again  shaking  his  head,  puts  the  envelope  inside  his  coat.~] 
Not  these ;  but  something  else,  if  you  will  let  me. 

\_Hefumbles  in  his  outer  side  pocket '.] 
May  I  ask  what  you  are  smiling  about  ? 

MATER 

May  I  ask  you  the  same  ? 

CULLEN 

\Producingfrom  his  pocket  a  tiny  box,  and  offering  it.~\ 
It's  such  a  little  thing  — 


MATER  55 

MATER 

[Meeting  his  glance."} 
To  save  a  nation ! 

[Taking  the  box."] 
So  this  is  the  alternative  ? 

CULLEN 

And  in  presenting  it,  may  I  beseech  you  to  be  un 
equivocal —  and  ask  me  to  lunch  again  ? 

MATER 

Unequivocally,  this  is  called  —  "putting  the  ques 
tion,"  isn't  it  ? 

CULLEN 

[Ardently.] 
Need  you  ask  ? 

MATER 

[Drawing  back  a  little."] 

Well,  you  see  it's  so  long  —  since  the  last  time,  I'm 
afraid  I've  grown  rusty. 

CULLEN 

Gold  is  cruel,  but  it  never  rusts.  Dearest  young 
lady,  in  the  gleam  of  your  hair,  your  wreath,  your 
smile,  you  are  a  book  of  little  ironies  bound  in  gold, 
and  in  spite  of  being  your  butt,  my  heart  "  dances 
with  the  daffodils." 

MATER 

[  Opening  the  &ox.~\ 
Why,  it's  a  thimble  ! 


56  MATER 

CULLEN 

And  gold  to  match  ! 

MATER 
[Delightedly^ 

My  dear  Mr.  Cullen,  it's  the  booby  prize  —  the  one 
we  drew  for  guessing  riddles  at  that  dinner  party. 

CULLEN 

You  and  I. 

MATER 

Yes,  we  were  partners.     It  fits  beautifully.     What 
glory  for  Michael's  socks  ! 

CULLEN 
I  told  you  I  would  have  it  inscribed. 

MATER 

How  good  of  you  to  remember! 

CULLEN 

How  could  I  forget  ?     Can  you  read  the  inscription  ? 

MATER 

[Examining  the  thimble."] 
M.  D.  &  A.  C.  Partners. 

How  interesting  !     Is  this  one  of  the  riddles  —  we 
didn't  guess  ? 

CULLEN 

The  letters,  of  course,  stand  for  you  and  me. 


MATER  57 

MATER 

Us? 

CULLEN 

The  initials  — 

MATER 

Wait.  You  mustn't  tell.  Let  me  guess:  M.  D. 
—  Marvellous  Deep,  that's  me  ;  &  A.  C.  —  Awfully 
Clever,  that's  you.  Right? 

CULLEN 
Wrong  !     You've  inverted  us. 

MATER 

Three  more  guesses  ! 
{She  proceeds  to  point  her  index  finger,  first  at  herself  and 

then  at  Cullen,  in  repetition.~\ 
M.  D.,  Mend  Darns  &  A.  C.,  Aid  Charity. 
Money  Deposited  &  Accounts  Credited. 
Make  Declarations  &  Accept  Consequences. 
Have  I  won  ? 

CULLEN 

Lost !     You  pointed  the  wrong  way. 

\_Takingfrom  her  the  thimble .] 
Matilda  Dean,  M.  D.  — 

MATER 
Doctor  of  Matrimony  ! 

CULLEN 
&  A.  C.,  Arthur  Cullen  — 


58  MATER 

MATER 

Author  of  Compliments ! 

[She  courtesies,  he  bows  and  both  laugh.~] 

CULLEN 

You  have  saved  the  day  —  and  the  prize.     Now 
you  must  wear  it. 

MATER 

[Holding  out  her  right  handJ] 
On  my  darning-finger  ? 

CULLEN 

No ;  the  left  hand  —  on  the  ring-finger. 
[Mater  puts  out  her  left  hand,  but  draws  it  back  hastily 
behind  her.  In  the  same  moment,  Cullen's  smile  dies  away.] 
I  beg  pardon. 

\_He  looks  at  her  quizzically. "\ 

MATER 

[Quickly.] 
Oh,  not  at  all. 

[After  a  pause. ~\ 
You  —  you  want  to  see  it  ? 

CULLEN 
I  believe  I  —  caught  a  glimpse. 

MATER 

[Hesitatingly,  brings  her  left  hand  forward,  revealing  a  ring 
on  the  ring-finger.'] 

It's  quite 'plain. 


MATER 
CULLEN 


Quite — plain  gold. 


MATER 

You  don't —  mind,  do  you  ? 

CULLEN 

Mind  ?     I  ? 

MATER 

I  mean,  because  of   the  finger.     You  see,  it's  a 
wedding-ring. 

CULLEN 
I  see.     , 

MATER 

You  see,  it  belonged  to  the  first  Mrs.  Dean  —  Mrs. 
Senator  Dean. 

CULLEN 
Oh! —  Thank  you. 

MATER 

You  see,  Michael's  mother— well,  of  course,  I  can 

never  feel  quite  the  same  sentiment  toward  her as 

he  does.     And  so,  my  own  mother  not  being  living  — 
you  understand  — 

CULLEN 

Oh,  entirely. 

MATER 

So,  you  see,  I  wear  her  ring  —  \hzfirst  Mrs.  Dean's 
ring — from  a  kind  of  sentiment  — a  very  natural 
kind  of  sentiment,  I  think. 


60  MATER 

CULLEN 

Absolutely. 

MATER 

\_Na'ively.~\ 
You  think  so  ? 

CULLEN 
Of  course. 

MATER 

\_Anxi ously.~\ 
You're  relieved? 

CULLEN 

Enormously,  Miss  Dean. 

MATER 

[Drawing  a  deep  breath^ 
So  am  I ! 

CULLEN 
Really  though,  you  gave  me  a  bad  minute. 

MATER 

{Absently.'} 
I'm  so  glad. 

CULLEN 
[Smiling.'] 
I'm  afraid  you  are  wicked. 

MATER 

I  am,  I  am  ! 

CULLEN 

I  had  supposed  that  Michael  Dean  —  but  I  knew 
nothing  about  it.     I  knew  nothing,  you  see,  of  his 


MATER  6 1 

family,  till  that  happy  riddle  party,  when  I  met  you ; 
the  only  time  till  now.  I  didn't  know,  of  course,  that 
you  and  he  are  children  of  different  mothers. 

MATER 

[  With  great  earnestness?^ 

Oh,  but  we  are  —  honestly  we  are !  —  What  makes 
you  look  at  me  like  that  ? 

CULLEN 

I  was  taking  my  turn. 

MATER 

At  what  ? 

CULLEN 

Miss  Matilda  Dean :  her  Marvellous  Deepness. 

MATER 

Oh,  but  surely  Arthur  Cullen,  Esquire,  his  Awfully 
Cleverness  can  decipher  that. 

CULLEN 

Will  you  answer  me  downright  one  thing  ? 

MATER 

Ask  it  first. 

CULLEN 

Miss  Dean,  have  you  never  given  your  heart  to  a 
man? 


62  MATER 

MATER 

Downright— that's    difficult    to    answer.      Would 
you  call  yourself  a  man,  Mr.  Cullen  ? 

CULLEN 

{Fervently^ 
Do  you  mean  — 

MATER 

What  I  ask  ?  —  Of  course. 

CULLEN 

[  Constraining  himself. ~\ 

Well,  for    argument,  yes;    give   me    the   benefit. 
What,  then,  is  your  answer  ? 

MATER 

Then  my  answer  is  —  no. 

CULLEN 

Never  ? 

MATER 

With  one  limitation.     To  speak  downright  of  my 
heart,  —  long  ago  I  gave  it  to  a  dragon. 

CULLEN 
A  dragon ! 

MATER 

A  wonderful  black  swan,  made  of  fire  and  tempest 
and  tenderness.     And  he  devoured  it  in  flames. 


MATER  63 

CULLEN 

[  With  growing  emotion .] 

And   where,    may    I    ask,    does    this   fiery   swan- 
dragon  live  ? 

MATER 

{Quietly.-} 
He  is  dead. 

CULLEN 

Fortunate  for  him,  Miss  Dean,  or  I  should  have 
been  tempted  to  become  his  Saint  George. 

MATER 

\_Srn  ilingfain  //y.] 
Fortunate  for  you,  Mr.  Cullen. 

CULLEN 

0  undecipherable  lady !     You  are  just  muddling 
my  head  with  your  mythology.     Let  it  go  ! 

{Lifting  the  thimble. ~\ 

1  haven't  a  spark  of  curiosity ;  I  don't  care  a  hang 
where  you  may  have  hung  your  heart  before,  so  long 
as  you  don't  drive  me  to  the  gallows-tree  by  refusing 
me  this  thimbleful  of  hope. 

MATER 
Drive  you  where  ? 

CULLEN 

To    corruption,    Miss    Dean,  —  to   the    campaign 
fund  ;  and  your  brother  to  despair. 


64  MATER 

MATER 

My — [checking herself "]  Michael  to  despair  ?  If 
I  refuse  this  thimble  ? 

CULLEN 

Precisely.  He  will  lose  his  election,  and  I  shall 
lose  my  morals.  Think,  dear  Miss  Dean,  think  of 
the  double  salvation  that  lies  in  your  power. 

\Holding  out  the  thimble,  he  steps  toward  her.  ] 

MATER 

Do  you  mean,  Mr.  Cullen,  that  you  would  intimi 
date  me  with  a  thimble  ? 

CULLEN 

Intimidate  !  —  Ah,  there  you  forget  again.  Are  we 
not  both  good  Hegelians  ?  Intimidation  and  love  are 
but  points  of  view. 

MATER 

Mr.  Cullen,  you  are  positively  medicinal !  If  only 
I  had  you  always  in  the  house,  I'd  consult  no  more 
specialists.  I'd  drop  you  every  morning,  by  lumps,  in 
Michael's  coffee. 

\The  voice  of  Michael  calls  from  outside, "  Mater  !  "     She 
starts  for  the  door,  lower  left.~\ 

Goodness !  He  wants  me  now.  I  must  tell  him 
you're  here. 

CULLEN 

\_Holding  it  out^\ 
The  thimble. 


MATER  65 

MATER 

What  shall  I  do  ? 

\_The  voice  sounds  again  impatiently^] 

CULLEN 
What's  that  he  called  you  ? 

MATER 

Me  ?  That  ?  Oh,  "  Mater !  "—Short  for  Matilda, 
you  know.  He  always  called  me  that  as  a  little  boy, 
and  the  Senator  used  to  encourage  him.  He  thought 
it  sounded  so  pretty  and  maternal.  So  now,  you  see, 
it's  grown  habitual  with  him. 

[  With  anxiety  but  assumed  spontaneity '.] 

—  Do  you  like  it  ? 

CULLEN 

Why,  it's  quite  charming,  but  quite  inappropriate. 

MATER  , 

[Surprised  and  ruffled."] 
Nonsense  !     I  don't  agree  with  you. 

\_She  starts  for  the  door  again.~] 

CULLEN 
Miss  Dean  —  the  thimble. 

MATER 

[Pausing —  her  matronly  feelings  still  piqued.'] 
It's  very  unfriendly  of  you.     If   you  think  me  a 
seminary  miss  — 


66  MATER 

CULLEN 

But,  dear  young  lady,  I  must  remind  you  — 

MATER 
[Tartly.'] 
Oh,  I  don't  mean  the  thimble. 

CULLEN 

Won't  you  take  it  before  — 

MATER 
\Taking  it  quickly '.] 

Of  course  I'll  take  it  —  and  hide  it.     That's  part  of 
the  game,  you  know. 

\_She  puts  it  in  her  girdle  ^\ 

CULLEN 

Remember !     That  means  hope. 

MATER 

Not  in  the  least,  —  not  till  I  wear  it. 

CULLEN 

Don't  forget!     Whatever  service  in  the  world  I 
can  do  for  your  brother  — 

MATER 

But  I  did  forget.     Those  campaign  clippings ! 

[She  goes  toward  the  table. ~\ 
He  will  gobble  me  up. 


MA  TER  67 

CULLEN 

I  beg  of  you.     Can  I  be  of  any  possible  use  ? 

MATER 

Why,   of   course   you  can.     Sit   down   and   paste 
these  in  quickly. 

\_He  sits  at  the  table  by  the  scrap-book.~\ 

These  here,  those  there.     Exactly  like  that —  par 
allel.     Exactly,  mind  !     No ;  you'll  have  to  sit  square 

to  do  it. 

[Adjusting  him.~\ 

So !     Like  that.     Now,  don't  move  from  that  angle 
till  I  come  back  and  criticise.     If  you  do  — - 

CULLEN 
[Raising  his  hand,  as  in  oath-taking.~\ 

Geometrical  lady,  I  will  keep  parallel  —  though  I 
petrify  ! 

[As  she  is  going,  she  places,  rather  conspicuously,  one  of  the 
clippings  beside  him  ;  then  hurries  away.  Cullen  calls 
after  her.~] 

And  the  thimble  ? 

MATER 
[At  the  door.~\ 

If  ever  you  see  it  on  my  darning-finger,  you  may 

have  hope. 

[Exit,  in  low -voiced  laughter."] 


68  MATER 

CULLEN 

[Looks  after  her.~\ 
Hope,  bewitching  Hope  ! 

[He  turns  to  the  scrap-book,  takes  paste  brush  and  shears 
and  lifting  the  clipping  which  Mater  has  laid  down, 
glances  at  it  more  closely,  whistles  a  soft  whistle  and 


"  A  striking  feature  of  the  present  campaign  has 
been  the  nomination  of  that  young  and  idealistic 
radical,  Michael  Dean,  son  of  the  late  lamented  Sen 
ator.  Whatever  opinions  may  be  held  in  regard 
to  his  epoch-making  work  '  Common  Sense  and  the 
Common  Weal,'  it  is  pleasant,  at  least,  to  contrast 
the  straightforward  promise  of  this  young  man  with 
the  compromising  accomplishment  of  the  majority  of 
our  legislators  ;  notably  with  the  activity  of  the  Hon 
orable  Arthur  Cullen,  whose  record  of  public  activity 
so  far  has  consisted  in  playing  astutely  that  game  of 
so-called  '  practical  '  politics,  which  is  simply  another 
name  for  private  enterprise." 

[Looking  toward  the  door,  lower  left^\ 

Well,  of  all  artistic  deviltry  —  ! 

MICHAEL 

[His  voice  heard  outside  '.] 
No,  you  will  wait,  please.     I  wish  to  see  him  alone. 

[  Cullen  closes  the  scrap-book  hastily.  MICHAEL  enters  and 
pauses  with  aloofness.  Cullen  starts  to  rise,  but  sits 
again  suddenly,  in  his  former  pose  of  angular  rigidity.  ~\ 


MA TER  69 

MICHAEL 

Good  morning,  Mr.  Cullen. 

CULLEN 

Good  morning,  Dean. 

MICHAEL 
We  have  already  conversed  by  telephone. 

CULLEN 

Yes ;  very  pleasant  to  hear  your  voice.  How  are 
you  ? 

MICHAEL 

Very  curious. 

CULLEN 

Eh  ?     What's  curious  ? 

MICHAEL 

I  —  to  hear  you  explain. 

CULLEN 

Oh,  of  course !  Beg  pardon,  I  forgot.  The  fact 
is,  I've  an  ugly  touch  of  sciatica,  and  that  prevents 
me. 

\_He  contorts  his  face  for  an  instantj] 

MICHAEL 
Prevents  you  from  explaining  ? 


7<D  MA  TER 

CULLEN 

No,  my  dear  fellow,  from  rising.  I  trust  I  have 
explained.  It  comes  and  goes  —  by  fits,  you  know. 

MICHAEL 

And  did  you  come  in  this  fit  to  consult  me  as  a 
doctor? 

CULLEN 

No,   don't  worry ;  I've   seen   the  doctor   already. 

I'm  prescribed  for.     Just  Hope!     And  no  moving, 

till  Hope  returns. 

[  Cullen,  still  sitting  rigid,  glances  uncomfortably  but  humor 
ously  toward  the  door,  left.  Michael  begins  to  pace 
with  nervous  strides. ~\ 

MICHAEL 

Mr.  Cullen,  this  afternoon  I  have  a  public  speech 
to  make.  My  time  is  brief.  You  will  kindly  leave 
these  prevarications  and  explain  your  business. 

CULLEN 

[His  eyes  constantly  seeking  the  door^\ 
There's  really  no  great  hurry. 

[Taking  from  his  pocket  the  large  envelope^ 
I  have  brought  with  me  some   memoranda,  fore 
casts  of  your  election,  which  I  should  be  glad  to 
hand  you,  in  the  event  — 

MICHAEL 

In  the  event  of  my  handing  you  four  thousand 
dollars. 


MATER  71 

CULLEN 

Toward  the  campaign  expenses. 

MICHAEL 

Thanks,  sir;  but  you  are  old  fashioned.  Since 
your  good  old  days,  you  forget  that  the  people  have 
been  to  school  —  politically.  The  A  B  C  of  public 
morality  forbids  any  candidate  to  provide  expenses 
for  his  own  campaign. 

CULLEN 

My  dear  Dean,  those  of  us  who  never  get  beyond 
their  A  B  C's  may  have  to  sit  always  in  the  back 
benches. 

MICHAEL 

And  those  of  us  who  forget  their  A  B  C's  may 
have  to  be  sent  even  farther  back. 

CULLEN 

[  With  a  grimace  ^\ 
The  devil !  —  Pardon  my  sciatica. 

MICHAEL 
[Earnestly.] 
Are  you  really  in  pain  ? 

CULLEN 
A  touch,  a  mere  touch. 

\_Pocketingthe  envelope  again.'} 

Let's  change  the  subject.  I  have  an  alternative 
to  propose. 


72  MATER 

MICHAEL 

So  you  mentioned. 

CULLEN 

A  pleasanter  solution  to  all  this.     Your  sister  — 

MICHAEL 

My  sister !     What  has  she  to  do  with  all  this  ? 

CULLEN 

It  occurred  to  me  when  I  first  met  her  — 

MICHAEL 
When  ?     I  didn't  know  you  had  ever  met. 

CULLEN 

Heaven  forgive  you,  then!  You  introduced  me 
yourself  at  the  Robinsons'  dinner. 

MICHAEL 
Did  I  ?    I  don't  remember.  —  Well,  the  alternative  ? 

CULLEN 

My  dear  Dean,  you  and  I  are  in  politics  —  probably 
for  keeps.  I  possess  large  influence  already ;  you 
may  possess  it  sometime.  You  are,  of  course,  a 
genius,  but  — 

MICHAEL 

Skip  that. 

CULLEN 

In  short,  you  yourself  have  prompted  my  sug 
gestion.  In  your  incomparable  book,  you  will  re- 


MATER  73 

member,  you  point  out  that  self-interest  is  the  most 
powerful  motive  of  humanity,  and  the  logical  one  to 
employ  for  attaining  the  ends  of  the  common  weal. 

MICHAEL 

In  brief,  what's  your  proposition  ? 

CULLEN 

Simply  this :  In  our  common  weal,  we  can  be  friends 
or  enemies.  For  our  common  weal,  therefore,  let 
self-interest  make  us  friends.  Now  it  so  happens 
that  I  am  unmarried,  and  you  have  a  sister  — 

MICHAEL 

Get  up ! 

CULLEN 

[Still  seated] 
What's  the  row  ? 

MICHAEL 

Take  yourself  out  of  here ! 

CULLEN 

\_In  smiling  consternation] 

I  wish  I  might,  but  Hope  —  bewitching  Hope  — 
has  deserted  me. 

MICHAEL 

Get  out  of  that  chair,  and  get  out  of  this  house ! 

CULLEN 

\Without  rising,  gesticulates  rigidly,   opens  the  scrap-book, 
peers  in,  and  dips  the  paste  brush  wildly] 

Great  heaven !     They're  not  parallel  1 


74  MATER 

MICHAEL 

[About  to  seize  him  ] 
Thundering  hell,  I  say  — 

MATER 
[Bursting  in.} 
Found !     Found ! 

CULLEN 

\_Leaping  precipitously  from  his  chair. ,] 
Praise  God ! 

MATER 

\_Raising  her  right  hand] 
Behold  it ! 

CULLEN 
[Rapturously.] 
On  the  darning-finger ! 

MICHAEL 

[  Glowering  at  Cullen] 
What  game  are  you  at  now  ? 

MATER 

Hide  the  thimble!     I've  found  it.     See ! 

MICHAEL 
[To  Mater.} 
Have  you  run  mad  ? 

MATER 

[To  Cullen,  seating  herself .] 
Now  /  sit  and  you're  it ! 


MATER  75 

CULLEN 

[  Gazing  at  Mater's  finger.  ] 
Now  I'm  it  indeed,  —  it  forever ! 

MICHAEL 
This  is  beyond  me. 

CULLEN 

I  don't  wonder,  Dean.  You  see,  it  accounts  for 
my  extraordinary  sitting  capacity. 

MICHAEL 

I  see  —  nothing. 

MATER 

Of  course  you  do !     We're  just  playing. 

MICHAEL 

Playing  what,  in  God's  name?  Oh,  less  smiles! 
less  smiles! 

CULLEN 

My  dear  fellow,  let  me  now  really  explain.  For 
give  me.  All  this  was  a  little  device  of  my  own  to 
test  you. 

MICHAEL 

Test  —  me! 

CULLEN 

Need  I  say  that  the  device  was  superfluous  ?  I 
congratulate  you  and  your  constituents  in  the  elec 
tion.  You  have  withstood  a  double  temptation,  like 
the  upright  man  you  are. 

[Taking  out  the  large  envelope.] 


76  MATER 

Dean,  I'm  proud  of  you,  and  I  take  great  pleasure 
in  handing  you  these  pledges  —  with  no  conditions 
whatsoever. 

MICHAEL 

But  the  four  thousand — 

CULLEN 

Mere  talk. 

MICHAEL 

And  the  alternative? 

CULLEN 
Utter  nonsense. 

MICHAEL 

[Taking  the  envelope  mechanically. ~\ 
Very  wonderful!     Very  incredible!     Mater,  what 
do  you  know  of  all  this  ? 

MATER 

You  have  told  me  frequently,  Michael,  how  little  I 
know  of  politics. 

MICHAEL 

Have  you  done  what  is  right  unscrupulously? 

MATER 

Oh,  quite  unscrupulously. 

MICHAEL 

And  remembered  your  promise  ? 

MATER 

Of  course  I've  remembered  it. 


MATER 


77 


MICHAEL 

Well,  sir,  I  accept  these  pledges  —  with  no  condi 
tions.  I  ask  pardon  for  my  excitement,  but  I  ask  no 
pardon  for  continuing  to  distrust  you.  And  until  you 
can  provide  me  with  some  less  fantastic  reason  for 
your  sudden  change  of  attitude  than  this  sudden  re 
lief  from  sciatica,  I  will  ask  you  to  leave  this  house 
immediately  and  permanently. 

\Crossingto  the  door,  lower  left,  Michael  —  about  to  go  out  — 
pauses  a  moment  on  the  thresholdl\ 

CULLEN 

Of  course,  Dean,  I  will  take  my  leave.  But  I  feel 
sure  that  when  you  come  to  look  at  my  sciatica  from 
a  different  point  of  view  — 

MICHAEL 


Point  of  view  again!  Points  of  view,  sir,  are 
points  of  the  devil's  horns.  They  sprout  as  fast  as 
they  moult.  Your  practical  politician  wears  them  for 
a  helmet  in  the  arena,  and  as  fast  as  his  antagonist 
blunts  one,  the  tip  o'  t'other  sharpens  and  gleams  in 

his  eyebrow. 

\Thundering,\ 

When  the  Cimmerian  Pluto,  sir,  vacated  his  throne 

to  a  sophist  — 

MATER 

[  Who  has  watched  Michael  with  a  glow  of  maternal  admira 
tion,  now  no  longer  containing  herself,  claps  her  hands 
with  delight  '.] 

Isn't  he  a  poet  !     Dear  Mr.  Cullen,  isn't  he  a  poet? 


78  MATER 

MICHAEL 

[Glaring  at  Mater  and  Cullen,  who  burst  simultaneously 
into  applause  and  laughter  J\ 

Damnation ! 

[He  rushes  out,  slamming  the  doorl\ 


ACT   II 


ACT   II 

A  few  days  later.    Afternoon. 

The  curtains  of  the  window  are  almost  closed,  admit 
ting  only  a  slit  of  light.  The  hallway  curtains  are 
also  drawn.  On  the  table  is  an  ironing-board ;  beneath 
it,  a  tablecloth  hangs  to  the  floor;  upon  it,  a  pressing- 
iron,  and  a  pair  of  black  trousers.  On  the  front 
edge  of  the  table,  a  glass,  half  filled  with  a  milky  liquid, 
stands  on  a  silver  tray,  on  which  is  also  a  teaspoon. 
Near  by,  a  small  pitcher.  In  various  parts  of  the  room 
are  vases  filled  with  yellow  flowers. 

On  the  divan  (his  head  toward  the  audience)  lies  MICHAEL, 
with  a  dark  green  silk  neckerchief  laid  over  his  eyes. 
Owing  to  the  piled-up  pillows  and  the  shawl  which  cov 
ers  him,  his  form  is  hardly  discernible.  A  tall  folding- 
screen  shuts  off  the  divan  partly  from  the  rest  of  the  room, 
obstructing  the  meagre  light  that  comes  from  the  window. 
Near  the  head  of  the  divan,  seated  beside  the  pillows, 
MATER  is  stroking  Michael's  brow  and  hair  with  the 
lightest  of  touches.  In  her  dress  are  fastened  yellow 
cowslips. 

MATER 
[Singing."] 

Sleep,  dearie,  sleep ! 
I  saw  the  first  star  peep. 
As  soon  as  the  solemn  day  is  done, 
The  stars  and  dreams  begin  their  fun. 
G  81 


82  MATER 

Dearie  boy, 
Weary  boy,  sleep! 

[Ceasing,  she  sits  motionless  for  a  moment,  watching  his 
breathing;  then  she  rises  quietly,  tiptoes  round  the 
screen  to  the  table,  lifts  the  pressing-iron,  tests  its  heat 
with  a  moistened  finger,  spreads  out  the  trousers  and 
begins  to  press  them. 

Michael  stirs  and  moans.  Mater  stops  and  looks  anxiously 
toward  him  ;  begins  then  softly  to  sing  again,  resuming 
her  work  as  she  does  so.~\ 

Hush  thee,  my  bonny,  thy  cradle  is  green, 
Father's  a  nobleman,  mother's  a  queen. 

[Enter  from  the  hall  MARY,  wearing  her  hat.  This  she  takes 
off,  goes  to  the  screen,  looks  at  Michael  and  speaks  low 
and  feelingly^ 

MARY 

How  long  has  he  been  asleep  ? 

MATER 

[Answering  in  a  like  undertone^ 
Half  an  hour.     His  first  day-nap  for  a  fortnight. 
He's   been   over-working    so   terribly.     Thank   God 
election  day  is  here  at  last ! 

MARY 
What  did  the  doctor  say  ? 

MATER 

He   fears   nervous   prostration.     Said   everything 
would  depend  on  to-day  —  on  whether  he's  elected. 


MATER  83 

MARY 

[Anxiously.] 
Everything !     How  ? 

MATER 

My  dear,  he  said  if  Michael  should  be  beaten,  dis 
appointed  now  in  his  ambition,  he  might  be  "  down 
and  out  for  always  —  an  invalid."  Those  were  his 
very  words. 

MARY 

Don't  speak  them.  Poor  boy !  I  was  sure  that 
rally  last  night  would  be  the  last  straw.  It  did  up 
even  me.  And  now  I've  been  watching  round  the 
polls  all  morning  —  I'm  a  wreck! 

MATER 
\With  affectionate  banter. ~\ 

Dear  Mollykins  !  You  do  look  rather  green  in  the 
gills. 

MARY 
[Irritated^ 

I  don't  either. —  How  absurd  of  you,  mother,  to  be 
doing  this  here ! 

MATER 
Ironing  ? 

MARY 

Trousers ! 

MATER 

I  hope  I  may  scratch  for  my  own  chick  and  child, 
and  still  keep  a  wing  over  him. 


84  MA  TER 

MARY 

Why  didn't  he  send  for  the  tailor  ? 

MATER 

Hush! 

[Beckoning  Maty  farther  from  the  screen."] 
So  he  did !  And  do  you  think  I  would  allow  a 
tailor  with  nine  undisinfected  children  to  carry  off 
my  boy's  trousers,  and  he  lying  helpless  ?  Gracious, 
girl !  To  put  your  legs  into  measle-germs  and  chicken- 
pox  —  I  hope  you'll  never  do  such  things. 

MARY 

I  wish  you  would  never  think  such  things  !  And  I 
wish  you  wouldn't  wear  such  things. 

MATER 

Cowslips  ?     I  love  cowslips. 

MARY 

Well,  if  that  Mr.  Cullen  is  such  a  ninny  as  to  send 
me  yellow  flowers  every  day  — 

MATER 

Oh,  but  he  doesn't.  He  sends  them  to  me  —  Miss 
Dean,  you  know. 

MARY 

Then  you  ought  to  be  all  the  more  ashamed  to 
wear  them.  You  bowed  to  him  in  the  Park  yester 
day.  Really,  if  you're  not  more  careful,  he  may 
misunderstand  it. 


MATER  85 

MATER 

I  devoutly  hope  he  will. 

MARY 

Now,  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ? 

MATER 

Who  knows,  my  dear  ?     He's  so  devoted  —  and  he 
might  be  so  useful 

[  Glancing  toward  the  divan.~\ 
to  Michael  boy.  — Would  it  surprise  you  ? 

MARY 

[  With  wide  eyes."] 
What? 

MATER 

{Softly  shaking  herl\ 
Stupid !     Don't  you  see  ?     I  have  half  a  mind  to  — ^ 

MARY 

To  what? 

MATER 

Run  for  the  legislature  myself. 

\_At  Mary's  expression  of  dense  disgust,  she  breaks  into 
laughter,  which  she  instantly  stifles.] 

MARY 
Of  all  preposterous  things  — 


86  MATER 

MATER 

But  fascinating,  my  dear !     It's  a  fascinating  art. 

MARY 

An  art ! 

MATER 

This  acting.  It's  such  fun,  and  so  ticklish  !  It's 
like  first  skating — there  are  so  many  ways  to  trip 
and  see  stars.  If  you  make  a  false  entrance,  miss  a 
cue  or  take  a  wrong  one,  lose  track  of  who  you  are, 
or  forget  how  to  improvise — bing  !  lights  out;  down 
comes  the  curtain  and  out  goes  your  reputation.  Ah, 
but  it's  rare  sport  while  it  lasts.  We  must  take  to 
the  stage,  Mary,  you  and  I. 

MARY 

I  shall  take  to  my  bed,  mother,  directly.  I'm  worn 
out  listening  to  speeches. 

MATER 

Now  that's  sensible ;  have  a  good  nap. 

MARY 
I  have  just  written  this  letter  to  Rudolf. 

\_Handing  it.~\ 
Give  it  to  him  when  he  calls. 

\_Going.~] 

Dear  old  Rudolfo  !  He  always  does  call,  though  I 
never  see  him.  —  Read  it  if  you  like. 

MATER 

May  I  ? 


MATER  87 

MARY 

And  wake  me  up,  mind,  just  as  soon  as  the  first 
returns  come  in.  There  ought  to  be  some  "Extras" 
out  before  dark. 

[  Yawning  wearily '.] 

Oh,  me  for  the  sand-man  ! 

MATER 

Sleep  tight. 

[Exit  MARY,  lower  left."] 

\Mater  returns  to  the  divan,  gazes  anxiously  at  Michael, 
softly  adjusts  a  pillow,  goes  to  the  bay-window,  where 
she  draws  the  curtains  to  a  narrower  slit,  by  the  light 
of  which  she  stands,  reading  Mary's  letter  with  flitting 
smiles.  From  the  hall,  RUDOLF  enters.  He  wears  his 
overcoat  and  holds  his  hat.  Dazed  for  a  moment  by  the 
darkened  room,  he  is  approached —  before  he  sees  her — 
by  Mater,  who  claps  her  hand  over  his  lips,  points  to  the 
divan  and  draws  him  to  the  farther  corner  of  the  room.~\ 

Softly  —  or  your  life ! 

RUDOLF 
How  is  she  ? 

MATER 

He,  you  mean.     He's  worse.     Will  he  be  elected  ? 

RUDOLF 

Sure  thing !     Great  weather  for  the  votes. 

MATER 

How  much  longer  to  wait  ? 


88  MATER 

RUDOLF 

The  polls  close  at  six.  — 

[  With  a  gasp,  dropping  his  hat  on  the  piano. ~\ 
Well,  I'll  be  ice-cream-soda'd  ! 

MATER 

\With  a  gesture  of  silence. ~\ 
You'll  wake  him.     What's  the  matter  ? 

RUDOLF* 

[Pointing  at  Mater's  yoke.~\ 
Those !  —  Cowslips,  ain't  they  ? 

MATER 

Yes. 

RUDOLF 

That  cinches  it.  I'm  damned  if  I  stand  it  any 
longer.  No,  Mater,  there's  no  use  joshing  me  ;  you 
got  those  from  Mary,  and  she  got  'em  from  that 

grafter. 

MATER 
Quiet ! 

RUDOLF 

I've  tracked  him,  I  tell  you,  every  day,  and  every 
day  to  that  same  damn  florist's  store. — Yellow,2 
every  time !  Daffodils,  primroses,  cowslips,  yellow 
lilies,  yellow  daisies,  yellow  roses  —  Oh,  he's  a  genu 
ine  yellow  dog ! 

1  The  dialogue  which  follows  between  them  is  carried  on  in  low 
tones,  rising  at  times  on  Rudolfs  part  to  a  higher  key,  at  which  times 
—  on  his  own  or  Mater's  initiative  —  he  checks  himself  abruptly,  and 
lowers  his  voice  again. 

2  Rudolf  pronounces  this  as  if  it  were  yuller. 


MATER  89 

MATER 

\_Laughing  low.] 
Thoroughbred  yellow ! 

RUDOLF 

And  I  tracked  the  messenger  boy  here  to  the  front 
door.  Every  morning  he  rung  the  bell.  I  wish  I'd 
wrung  his  neck !  "  For  Miss  Dean,"  says  he.  For 

Miss  Dean ! 

MATER 

Well,  you  see  she  doesn't  wear  them  herself. 

RUDOLF 

How  do  /  know  ?  You  may  be  trying  to  let  me 
down  easy.  She  won't  see  me.  Just  because  I  kissed 
her !  I  can't  swallow  it. 

MATER 
Silly !     She's  only  teasing. 

RUDOLF 

Teasing!  Well,  I  tell  her  straight,  then,  if  she 
thinks  she  can  shuffle  me  into  the  tricks  of  that 

blackleg  — 

MATER 

[Holding  up  the  letter^ 
What  will  you  give  for  this  ? 

RUDOLF 
\_Snatching  //.] 
From  Mary !     Bless  her  heart ! 


QO  MATER 

[He  rushes  with  it  to  the  curtains  and  reads.  As  he  does  so 
the  door-bell  rings.  Mater  crosses  to  the  hallway  cur 
tains,  opens  them  a  little,  listens,  closes  them  quickly  and 
hastens  to  Rudolf. ~\ 

MATER 
I  want  you  to  do  something  for  me. 

RUDOLF 

[With joyous  explosion.] 
Mater!     She's  a  cracker-jack.     Read  it. 

[He  thrusts  the  letter  into  her  hands.] 
She  tells  me  to  come  round  right  after  midnight 
and  she'll  make  up.     Election  day  will  be  over  then, 
you  know. 

MATER 

What  did  I  tell  you  ? 

[Laying  the  letter  on  the  table.] 
Now,  what  will  you  do  for  mel 

RUDOLF 

Anything !     Pickle  my  self ! 

[Takes  up  the  pressing-iron.] 

MATER 
Well,  then,  since  you're  in  such  a  hurry  — 

RUDOLF 
Who  said  that  I  — 


MATER  9! 

MATER 

\_Edging  him  toward  the  door,  upper  left."] 
Go   out  by  the   back  way  and  give  this  iron  to 
Nellie,  the  cook,  and  tell  her  please  — 

RUDOLF 

But,  hold  on  — 

MATER 

Here's  your  hat.     Tell  her  to  put  it  on  the  stove 

and  heat  it  immediately.     Be  quick. 

{Standing  in  the  doorway,  Rudolf — his  Derby  hat  in  one 
hand,  the  iron  in  the  other — extends  his  arms.  Simul 
taneously,  the  hallway  curtains  part  quietly  and  CULLEN 
enters,  sees,  hears,  and  exits  precipitously,  unseen .] 

RUDOLF 

Mater,  you're  a  darling !     I'd  like  to  give  you  a 
hug.     Can  I  ? 

MATER 

Quoth  the  Big-sized  Bear  to  Goldy-locks ! 
\_She  hugs   him  playfully,  growling  in   bear-fashion;    then 
pushes  him  out.~\ 

Now  lively,  Rudolf,  give  it  to  the  cook. 

RUDOLF 
[  Outside.'] 

See  you  at  midnight. 

[ Mater  closes  the  door,  and  is  going  toward  the  screen,  when 
CULLEN  r centers  from  the  hall.  Mater  points  warn- 
ingly  toward  the  divan. ~] 


92  MATER 

MATER 

Asleep !  —  You  oughtn't  to  have  dared. 

CULLEN 
You  got  my  note  with  the  flowers  ? 

MATER 

Yellow  —  how  nice  of  you  to  remember !  But  you 
know  he  has  forbidden  you  the  house.  If  he  should 
wake  — 

CULLEN 

Would  the  next  room  —  ? 

MATER 

Oh,  I  mustn't  leave  him.  You'd  better  come  to 
morrow. 

CULLEN 

\Slowly,  with  smiling  suspieiousncss^\ 
Mightn't  that  be  too  late  ? 

MATER 

Why? 

CULLEN 

May  I  glance  again  at  your  darning-finger  ? 

\Mater  shows  it.~] 
And  where,  may  I  ask,  is  the  — 

MATER 

It's  hid,  of  course.  —  How  queerly  you  smile  ! 


MATER  93 

CULLEN 

It's  a  queer  day  —  election  day. 

MATER 

[  With  an  obvious  sigh  of  relief. ~\ 
It  will  soon  be  over. 

CULLEN 

Yes,  Miss  Dean  ;  but  it  isn't  Gvir  yet. 

\Looking  at  his  watch.~\ 

It's  not  quite  four  o'clock.     The  ballots  are  counted 
at   six. —  Have   you   made   our   little  announcement 

[NoddingJ] 

—  to  him  ? 

MATER 
\_Ndively\ 
Dear  Mr.  Cullen,  he's  so  ill. 

CULLEN 
Dear  Miss  Dean,  —  may  I  call  you  Mater? 

MATER 

\_Repressing  a  spring  of  laughter ^\ 
How  gracious  of  you  ! 

CULLEN 
You're  not  playing  with  me  ? 

MATER 

On  my  heart !     It's  too  good  to  be  true.     I  was 
praying  you  would  come  to  call  me  —  that. 


94  MATER 

CULLEN 

Like  so  many  other  friends  of  yours  ? 

MATER 

Oh,  dear  no  !     Only  the  family. 

CULLEN 

Only  the  family ! 

[Glancing  at  the  door  where  Rudolf  lately  went  out.'] 
So! 

MATER 

That  is,  except  one,  of  course,  who  may  sometime — - 
{She pauses  in  sudden  embarrassment.'} 

CULLEN 

[Intensely.] 
May  sometime  ? 

MATER 

[  Whispering  quickly.'] 
We're  talking  too  much. 

[She  hurries  on  tiptoe  to  the  divan,  motions  silence  to  Cullen, 
turns  her  back  on  him,  oblivious,  and  sings  low  beside 
Michael] 

Hush-a-bye,  baby,  on  the  tree-top, 
When  the  wind  blows,  the  cradle  will  rock ; 
When  the  bough  breaks,  the  cradle  will  fall, 
And  down  will  come  baby,  cradle  and  all. 
[Cullen,  who  listens   captivated,  moves  impulsively   toward 

her] 


MATER  95 

CULLEN 

Dearest  of  women  —  Damn  ! 

\Brushing  past  the  table,  he  strikes  the  ironing-board  and 
knocks  off  the  tray,  glass  and  teaspoon  from  its  edge. 
They  clatter  noisily  on  the  floor.  Michael  starts  from 
his  sleep.  Mater  turns  in  consternation  and  whispers, 
with  an  agitated  gesture^ 
Go!  Go! 

[  Cullen  ducks  behind  the  table,  the  cloth  of  which  conceals 
him.     Michael  sits  up,  with  a  startled  look.~\ 

MICHAEL 
What's  the  matter  ? 

MATER 

\Picking  up  the  glass,  etc.~\ 
I  was  fixing  your  egg-nog,  dear,  and  it  spilled. 

MICHAEL 
\Testily.~\ 

You  shouldn't  be  so  careless. 

[He  rises,  pak  and  worn-looking,  in  his  dressing-gown  ;  rubs 
his  eyes,  and  lays  the  dark  silk  neckerchief  on  the  table.  ~\ 

MATER 
Does  the  light  still  hurt  ? 

MICHAEL 

Yes. 

MATER 

Did  tired  boy  have  a  nice  sleep  ? 


96  MA  TER 

MICHAEL 
No,  I  dreamed. 

MATER 

A  penny  for  a  dream  ! 

MICHAEL 

I  saw  Cullen  in  this  room  again  ;  I  was  sure  I  heard 
him  talking. 

MATER 

[Drawing  away.~\ 
You  were  sure  ? 

MICHAEL 

Positive  —  in    my     nightmare !      Mater,     I     have 
^    never    understood    that    morning,  —  that    hide-the- 
thimble  nonsense.     I  was  thinking  — 

MATER 

But  you  mustn't  think !  The  doctor  said  "  No." 
Come  upstairs  and  we'll  rest  again. 

MICHAEL 

\_Crossing  with  her  toward  the  door,  lower  left.~\ 
If  you  are  hiding  any  thimble  from  me  — 

MATER 

\_Appcalingly. ~\ 
Now,  boy ! 

MICHAEL 

I  said  if,  Mater.  Take  care!  Remember  your 
promise.  And  remember,  too,  that  never  am  I  to 
set  eyes  on  that  hypocrite  in  this  house  again. 


MATER  97 

MATER 

Never,  dear, 

[  With  a  twinkling  glance  toward  the  tablecloth.'] 
if  we  can  help  it.     So  now  come.     I've   instructed 
the  maid  that  you  cannot  see  anybody  at  all. 

MICHAEL 
Not  till  to-night. 

[  With  sudden  melancholy^ 

To-night  —  Mater !  What  if  the  ballots  go  against 
me? 

MATER 

But  they  can't !  My  funny-bone  aches,  and  bones 
are  prophetic.  —  You  are  to  be  elected  ! 

MICHAEL 

I'm  tired !  —  It's  all  the  finger  of  fate,  anyway. 

MATER 

Of  course  it  is.     And  Fate  wears  a  thimble. 

MICHAEL 
What's  that? 

MATER 

Fate  and  I,  my  dear,  are  old  cronies.  So  don't 
worry.  She  has  revealed  to  me  her  omens  and  they 
are  all  auspicious.  To-night's  the  new  moon,  and 
whenever  the  moon  is  new  — 

MICHAEL 

Nonsensical  little  noddle! 

[Holding  her  temples  and  looking  in  her  eyes."] 
H 


98  MATER 

With  all  the  doting,  patient  love  it  contains,  I 
wouldn't  swap  it  for  a  thousand  moons  chock-full 
of  destiny.  — 

\Raising  his  forefinger^ 

So  long  as  it  never  fibs  ! 

MATER 
[  Uneasily  moving  to  the  door.~\ 

Now  we'll  come  ? 

MICHAEL 

No,  Mater  —  not  with  me.  I'm  going  to  my 
room  alone.  I  want  to  think  of  all  that's  coming 
—  to-night. 

MATER 

[  With  affectionate  reproach."] 
But,  dearie,  — 

MICHAEL 

[  With  a  gesture  of  finality^ 
I  want  to  be  alone  —  utterly  alone. 


MATER 

[Looking  after  him  wistfully^ 
He  mustn't  say  that. 

CULLENi 

[Rising  from  behind  the  tablecloth  .] 
Compliments,  please  !     Didn't  I  take  my  medicine 
like  a  man  ? 

1  Throughout   the  ensuing  scene  between  Cullen  and    Mater,  the 
dialogue  is  to  be  so  rendered  by  the  actor  and  actress  that  beneath 


MATER 


99 


MATER 

{Turns  round  with  annoyance,  which  she  represses,  and  looks 
at the floor, .] 

You  did  indeed  !     And  my  rug  will  never  recover 
from  it.  — 

Dear,  dear,  what  a  spot !     And  it's  sinking  in. 

[Looking  hastily  round  her.~\ 
Please  fetch  me  something  to  — 

[He  offers  his  handkerchief."} 
Oh,  thanks  ! 

[She  stoops  down  to  wipe  up  the  egg-nog.~\ 

CULLEN 

Don't. 

[Raising  her  and  kneeling  down  himself. ~\ 

Allow  me. 

MATER 

[Han  ding  him  the  small  pitcher."} 

Here's  some  water.     Rub  hard.  —  You  need  more 
light. 

[She  goes  to  the  window  curtains  and  throws  them  back,  let 
ting  in  a  rush  of  'sunshine .] 

the  humorous  outward  badinage  of  both,  the  more  serious  feelings  of 
each  are  made  evident :  On  Mater's  part,  her  absent-minded  thoughts 
of  Michael,  her  earnest  desire  to  play  her  part  skilfully  and  her  fears 
lest  Cullen  shall  suspect  her;  on  Cullen's  part,  a  serious  suspicion 
that  Mater  is  playing  with  him,  and  a  real  feeling  of  enamoration  for 
her. 


IOO  MA  TER 

CULLEN 

[  On  his  knees,  mopping."] 

Permit  me  to  certify  that  this  is  the  first  time  a 
handkerchief  of  mine  has  ever  been  wet  with  spilt 
milk. 

MATER 

[Flashing  at  him  a  look  of  relief ^\ 
I  adore  you  for  that ! 

\_Cullen  gets  to  his  feet,  glowing. ~\ 

For  now  I  know  I  am  saved.  You  won't  cry,  will 
you,  when  I  do  tell  you  — 

CULLEN 

[Quickly,  sobering."} 

Please !  —  Don't  tell  me.  We  mustn't  spill  any 
more  —  either  of  us.  If  we  did,  you  might  cry,  dear 
Mater,  and  it  mustn't  come  to  that. 

MATER 

[  With  badinage. ~\ 
You're  too  delightful,  but  really  — 

CULLEN 

Pardon  me.  I  merely  want  to  remark  that  if  you 
imagine  our  little  game  of  hide-the-thimble  is  over,  you 
are  fundamentally  mistaken. 

I  repeat :  It  is  now  a  little  past  four  o'clock.  The 
election  ballots  are  counted  at  six.  Your  brother's 
warm  sentiments  toward  me  he  has  lately  rehearsed 
with  eloquence,  so  that,  in  estimating  my  chances 


MATER 

in  this  game,  I  realize  that  I  must  depend  on  your 
touching  devotion  to  him  and  his  future  career; 
though,  I  trust  deeply  that  some  tokens  of  my  own 
humble  devotion  — 

[He  holds  out  comically  the  draggled  handkerchief] 

MATER 
[In  true  consternation] 

Good  heavens  !  Do  you  mean  that  the  voters' 
ballots  can  really  be  juggled  with  ? 

CULLEN 

There  again  !  "  Juggled  "  fails  to  hit  the  exact 
viewpoint.  In  advanced  mathematics,  dear  young 
lady,  there  are  two  distinct  divisions,  known  as  Pop 
ular  Arithmetic  and  Political  Arithmetic.  The  former 
is  theoretical ;  the  latter,  practical.  According,  for 
instance,  to  your  theoretical  arithmetic,  one  and  one 
make  two ;  whereas,  according  to  my  practical  com 
putation,  — 

[Looking  hard  at  her] 

one  and  one  must  be  made  one,  otherwise  one  more 
must  be  eliminated  from  politics. 

MATER 
[Dubiously] 
Before  to-morrow  ? 

CULLEN 
Before  six  o'clock ;  say,  five-thirty. 


102  MATER 

MATER 

\_Beginning  to  clear  off  the  table. ~\ 
Let  me  reckon  a  little. 

[She  looks  about,  absent-mindedly.^ 
Your  arm,  please.     Carefully  ! 

[Holding  Michael's  trousers  by  the  creases,  she  lays  them  over 
Cullerts  extended  left  arm.~] 

CULLEN 
[Smiling.'] 
Only  think  how  practical  I  should  always  be ! 

MATER 

I've  forgotten  where  I  hid  it. 

[As  she  takes  off  the  tablecloth  to  fold  it,  Mary's  letter  drops 
to  the  floor  unnoticed.'] 

CULLEN 

If  you  should  ever  need  a  mop,  for  example,  or  a 
suit-hanger, 

[Mater  tosses  the  folded  cloth  across  his  right  shoulder.] 
or  a  clothes- rack  — 

MATER 

[With  mental  decision.] 
I  remember  now.    It's  in  my  work-basket. 

[Standing  the  ironing-board  against  Cullen.~\ 
Now,  if  you'll  put  that  —  over  here. 

[Leading  the  way  to  the  closet,  which  she  opens. ~\ 
Inside ! 


MATER 


103 


CULLEN 

[Laden  with  ironing-board,  cloths  and  trousers,  follows  awk 
wardly. ~\ 

Or  an  auto-domestic  toting-machine  — 
\He  puts  the  things  in  the  closet^\ 

MATER 

[Seating  herself  at  the  table,  takes  from  the  work-basket  some 
socks,  a  darning  egg  and  the  gold  thimble. ,] 

The  whole  combination  outfit  delivered  free  of 
charge  when  I  exhibit  this  thimble  to  Michael !  As 
advertised  !  Is  that  the  offer  ? 

CULLEN 

[Observing  the  thimble  with  pleasure^ 

Ha !  found  again  !  — You  will  also,  of  course,  inter 
pret  to  him  the  inscription. 

MATER 
Before  five-thirty  ? 

CULLEN 

[Smiling  shrewdly. ,] 
Call  it  five. 

MATER 

Do  yours  wear  at  the  heel  or  the  toe,  Mr.  Cullen  ? 

CULLEN 
May  I  beseech  you  to  call  me  Arthur? 


IO4  MATER 

MATER 

[  With  decisiveness^ 
Not  till  five-thirty !  — 

\Humming  as  she  darns.] 
Wear  at  the  heel, 
Spend  a  good  deal. 

Wear  at  the  toe, 
Spend  as  you  go. 
[Holding  up  the  undarned  sockJ] 
Michael's  great  toe  is  invincible ! 

CULLEN 

Do  you  know,  dear  Mater,  when  I  behold  you  like 
this,  enshrined,  so  to  speak,  in  the  very  soul  of  do 
mesticity  — 

MATER 

[Darning.~\ 

Wear  at  the  ball, 

Spend  not  at  all. 

CULLEN 

And  when  just  now  I  listened  to  you  crooning  that 
old  Yankee  tree-top  lullaby  ^- 

MATER 

There's  the  real  national  anthem  for  you ! 

CULLEN 
-j 

I  cannot  resist  thinking,  after  all,  how  aptly  your 
pretty  nickname  may  become  you  —  sometime.  '• 


MATER 


105 


MATER 
[Singing.] 

"  When  the  bough  breaks  the  cradle  will  fall, 
And  down  will  come  baby,  cradle  and  all."  — 
[  Glancing  up.] 

It's  so  delightfully  reassuring  to  the  baby,  don't 
you  think  ? 

CULLEN 

[Dubiously.] 
That  might  depend  on  the  baby. 

MATER 

[Reassuringly^ 

But  you  see,  he's  bound  to  grow  up  a  genuine 
American  humorist.  He  will  have  learned  the  na-  , 
tional  doxology  in  the  maternal  nest.  Whenever  the 
wind  blows,  he'll  be  sure  that  the  worst  is  yet  to  come, 
and  he'll  compose  himself  accordingly,  with  smiles, 
to  slumber. 

[She  glances  up  again  quickly ^\ 

CULLEN 
Was  I  smiling  ? 

MATER 

You  should  have  been.  Anyway,  assumed  a  virtue, 
you  know ;  for  I  absolutely  rely  on  your  turning  out  a 
humorist.  May  I  depend  on  you  ? 


I  will  try. 


CULLEN 
[Smiling.'] 


IO6  MATER 

MATER 

That's  an  immense  relief. 

CULLEN 

Thank  you  for  that  faith  in  me.  And  to  prove  to 
you  how  fondly  I  aspire  to  deserve  it,  I  will  remind 
you  that  these  are  your  brother's  trousers,  in  which 
he  may  desire  to  incorporate  himself  sometime  before 
the  polls  close. 

MATER 

Forgive  me.  I've  been  so  busy  patching  the  heel  of 
Achilles,  I  forgot  the  arm  of  Paris.     It  must  be  tired. 
\_Putting  down  her  darning  things,  rises.~\ 

CULLEN 

In  the  service  of  the  golden  Helen  of  Troy  —  never ! 
\She  takes  the  trousers.     With  a  grimace,  he  painfully  re 
laxes  his  left  arm.~\ 

MATER 

[  Watching  him.~] 
I  see !     It  was  over  your  left. 

\_Goingwith  the  trousers. ,] 
I'll  take  these  to  my  tree-top. 

CULLEN 

And  I'll  wait  down  here  to  watch  how  the  wind 
blows. 

MATER 
[Wickedly. ~\ 
You  needn't  wait  —  if  you  hear  a  bough  breaking ! 


MATER 


107 


[Exit  MATER.  Cullen  smilingly  seats  himself  by  the  table, 
gradually  growing  pensive.  Mechanically  he  picks  up  a 
sheet  of  paper  and  an  envelope  from  the  floor  at  his 
feet,  and  is  about  to  lay  them  upon  the  table.  Glancing 
at  the  envelope,  he  brings  it  nearer  to  his  eyes.~\ 

CULLEN 
"  Rudolf  Verbeck,  Esquire":—  Rudolf  ! 

[He  gives  a  glance  toward  the  door  of  Mater's  exit;    then 
looks  at  the  sheet  of  paper. ~\ 

"  Dearest  Rudolf, 

[Hesitating  an  instant,  he  reads  on.~\ 

"  I  have  treated  you  very  badly  these 
last  few  days.  I  am  so  sorry,  but  of  course  I  had  to 
keep  my  word.  You  know  I  told  you  I  would  not 
speak  to  you  again  till  after  election.  Now  the  great 
day  is  almost  over  and  Michael,  let  us  pray,  will  be 
elected,  to  the  discomfort  of  his  enemies  —  especially 
that  horrid  Mr.  Cullen.  Then  at  last  I  shall  be  free 
again  to  welcome  you.  I  shall  sit  up  to-night  till  after 
twelve.  If  you  will  call  in  at  midnight,  I  will  make 
up  for  my  long  silence. 

Your  devoted 

M.  D." 

[Slowly  folding  up  the  sheet  of  paper,  he  puts  both  letter  and 
envelope  into  hispocket.~\ 

M.  D.  —  That  horrid  Mr.  Cullen  ! 

[Enter,  from  the  hallway,  RUDOLF.     He  is  out  of  breath,  and 
hurries  ;  but  seeing  Cullen,  stops  short.~\ 


108  MATER 

RUDOLF 

Jehosaphat ! 

CULLEN 

Mr.  Rudolf  Verbeck  ? 

RUDOLF 

You! 

CULLEN 

My  name,  sir,  is  Cullen. 

RUDOLF 

And  mine  is  Dennis  !      What  in  the  devil —     Oh, 
come  !     You  haven't  seen  her  ? 

CULLEN 
You  are  referring  perhaps  to  Miss  Dean  ? 

RUDOLF 

Has  she  been  here  with  you  ? 

CULLEN 

Ever  since  your  abrupt  departure,  till  a  moment 
ago. 

RUDOLF 

You're  a  liar ! 

CULLEN 

Your  vocabulary,  sir,  and  your  inference  are  both 
in  error. 

RUDOLF 

I  tell  you,  it  wasn't  fifteen  minutes  ago  when  I  left 
that  — 

[Pauses.] 


MATER 
CULLEN 

When  you  left  that  iron  with  the  cook  ? 

RUDOLF 

What?  — No!  Mater  wouldn't  do  that!  She 
hustle  me  off  so  that  you  —  my  God  !  Why,  I  was 
just  coming  back  to  get  that  — 

CULLEN 

Probably  you  mean  this  letter  you  forgot. 
\_Rudolf  stares  at  the  letter.'} 

It  was  my  privilege  to  help  in  composing  it.  It 
has,  I  think  you'll  agree,  an  Homeric  style  of  pleas 
antry.  — 

"That  horrid  Mr.  Cullen."  —  Terse,  but  it  tells 

the  story. 

RUDOLF 

Wait  a  minute  !  You're  a  scientific  old  shark  and 
you  want  to  Fletcherize  me.  You  swiped  that  letter, 
and  you're  sponging  here  where  you  don't  belong. 
Miss  Dean  is  engaged  to  me,  and  you  know  it.  So 
clear  out ! 

CULLEN 

She  has  never  shown  you  this  ? 

\Takesfrom  the  work-basket  the  thimble '.] 

RUDOLF 
What's  that  ? 

CULLEN 

A  little  engagement  gift  of  mine.  She  has  just 
been  wearing  it  and  laid  it  down. 


HO  MATER 

RUDOLF 

[  Taking  it  disdainfully^ 
More  taffy ! 

CULLEN 
Have  you  read  the  inscription  ? 

RUDOLF 

M.  D.  &  A.  C.  Partners.  —  I'll  be  damned  ! 

\JReenter  MATER.      She  starts  hastily  to  withdraw,  but  is 
aw  are  of  Rudolf  s  eye  upon  herJ] 

MATER 
[Coming  in.] 

Gracious,  Rudolf ! 

RUDOLF 

So  you're  surprised  to  see  me  back ! 

MATER 

I  really  didn't  intend  — 

RUDOLF 

You  didn't  intend  I  should  see  this  honorable 
gentleman !  Hustled  me  out  of  one  door  before  he 
should  come  in  t'other.  — Well,  I  gave  the  iron  to  the 
cook  all  right. 

MATER 

[Embarrassed. ~\ 
Thank  you. 


MATER  in 

RUDOLF 

No,  Mater !  You  don't  mean  to  stand  there  and 
say  it's  true.  Him  !  Him  to  win  out,  and  me  to  get 
the  go-by  !  And  all  those  damn  yellow  flowers  — 

CULLEN 

Mr.  Verbeck  forgot  his  letter. 
[Showing  //.] 

MATER 
[Appalled^ 
Heaven  be  merciful ! 

RUDOLF 

And  you,  Mater !  You,  of  all  people  in  the  world, 
to  contrive  all  this  against  me ! 

MATER 

[Looks  from  one  to  the  other  in  chaotic  perplexity ;  then 
raises  her  arms  as  in  supplication^ 

Melpomene  and  Pulcinello,  befriend  me  !  Shades 
of  Absurdity,  hallow  me  with  your  wings !  If  ever 
scowling  eyebrow,  scornful  nostril  and  suspicious  lip 
have  been  the  altars  of  my  sacrifice,  by  these  now  I 
invoke  you.  Listen !  I  lift  up  your  hollow  reed  of 
praise.  Listen,  and  succor  your  priestess  on  this 
ultimate  verge  of  — 

\She  bursts  into  laughter ^\ 

Gentlemen,  I  give  up.  The  situation  is  too  per 
fect;  it  is  beyond  my  technique  —  Bien  !  c'est  fini! 
You  must  hear  my  confession. 


112  MATER 

RUDOLF 

[/«  utter  gloom,  glowers  at  Cullen,  who  wears  a  faint  sus 
picious  smile  of  discomfiture.'] 

Thanks.  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more.  I  was 
always  slow  on  a  joke,  but  I  guess  I've  caught  the 
point  of  that  letter  all  right. 

[Goes  toward  the  hallt  stops  and  looks  back  at  Cullen.'] 
Congratulations ! 

MATER 
[  Uneasily."] 

You'll  call  in  again  about  midnight !  We'll  make 
a  Welsh  rarebit. 

RUDOLF 

Of  me  ?  —  Much  obliged  ! 

[Exit  down  the  stairs.] 

MATER 

Poor,  dear,  dull  boy !  —  Do  you  think  that  kind 
runs  to  suicide  ? 

CULLEN 
[  With  coolness."] 
You,  perhaps,  are  the  better  judge. 

MATER 

No,  I'm  sure  his  Dutch  ancestors  wouldn't  let  him. 
He  is  so  dense,  good  soul.  And  to  think  that  some 
day  he'll  be  married.  Lord,  what  children  they  will 
have !  Well,  if  they're  born  in  Dutch  pants  and 
spectacles,  I'll  disown  'em. 


MATER  113 

CULLEN 

[Twirling  his  watch-chain, ,] 
I  beg  to  remind  you  — 

MATER 

Don't  do  that ;  you'll  get  it  full  of  kinks. 

CULLEN 
\Determint 'dly.~\ 
To  remind  you  once  more  — 

MATER 

There  !     How  good  of  you !     I  knew  I'd  forgotten 
something  else. 

[  Going  to  the  book-shelves.] 
These  verses  —  I  must  read  them  to  you. 

CULLEN 

To  swap  poets  with  you  is  a  privilege.     But  now  I 
really  must  remind  you  — 

MATER 

Listen !     /  am  the  poet. 

[She  brings  a  sheet  of  paper ^\ 
It's  mine. 

CULLEN 

Another  song  about  a  hero  ? 

i 


114  MATER 

MATER 

No;  a  campaign-hymn.  It's  a  surprise  for  Mi 
chael.  They're  going  to  serenade  him  with  it  to-night 
— if  he's  elected. 

CULLEN 

I  am  happy  you  realize  that  he  must  be.  Which 
reminds  me  — 

MATER 

Don't  be  so  impatient.  I'll  read  it  to  you  directly. 
It's  to  be  sung  to  old  John  Brown's  tune. 

I  know  Michael  would  love  to  have  me  read  it  to 
you  —  \Kcenly\  as  a  statesman. 

\_She  reads  from  the  manuscript,  gradually  losing  herself  in 
it  as  she  goes  on,  speaking  the  lines  toward  the  end  with 
fiery  rhythm. ~\ 

They  have  strewn  the  burning  hearths  of  men  with 

darkness  and  with  mire, 
They  have  heaped  the  burning  hearts  of  men  with 

ashes  of  desire, 
Yet  from  out  those  hearts  and  hearths  still  leaps  the 

quick  eternal  fire 

Whose  flame  is  liberty. 

For  the  freedom  of  the  laborer  is  freedom  from  his 

toil, 

And  freedom  of  the  citizen  is  right  to  share  the  soil, 
And  the  freedom  of  our  country  is  the  loosing  of  the 

coil 

That  chokes  posterity. 


MATER 

CULLEN 
[  Clapping  with  polite  applause. ~\ 

The  real  Dean  fire  and  storm-cloud ;  I  never  ob 
served  the  family  resemblance  before. 

MATER 

\Flashing  upon  him  a  look  of  quick  scorn.~\ 
Listen !  —  I'm  not  through. 

[She  reads  on,  merely  glancing  at  the  paper. ~\ 

Let  us  who  wage  our  devious  wars,  in  fastness  and  in 

fen, 
March  out  and  claim  our  birthright  in  the  common  sun 

again, 
And  the  battle  of  the  beasts  become  the  reasoning  of 

men, 

And  joy  our  harmony. 

For  the  vote  that  makes  a  man  free,  bringing  gladness 

to  his  bread, 
Is  mightier  than  the  mindless  gun  that  leaves  a  million 

dead; 
And  common  sense  is  common  joy,  when  all  is  sung 

and  said, 

And  common  sense  shall  be! 

\Materstands  in  a  kind  of  martial  brown-study, quite  oblivious 
of  Cullerfs  presence^ 

CULLEN 
Enigma,  I  have  solved  thee. 


Il6  MATER 

MATER 

Splendid  boy !  — 

\Eagerfy.~] 

Do  you  think  it  will  please  him  ? 

\_With  a sigh.-\ 
Of  course,  though,  he  hates  all  poetifying ! 

CULLEN 

You  are  talking  against  time.     But  I  warn  you  it's 

in  vain.  — 

\Pointing  overhead^ 

When  you  carried  the  trousers  up  there,  you  did  not 
tell  your  brother. 

MATER 

How  do  you  know  ? 

CULLEN 

Because  I've  heard  no  breaking  of  furniture.  Now, 
therefore,  nothing  less  than  painful  necessity  forces 
me  to  reveal  to  you  —  my  universal  reputation.  I'm 
an  ugly  character,  —  an  unusually  ugly  political  char 
acter.  My  dearest  enemies  will  not  deny  that,  in 
whatever  venture  has  fallen  to  my  hands,  I  have 
never  failed  to  secure  the  goods.  In  my  present 
venture,  you  —  beloved  lady  —  are  the  goods. 

MATER 

Am  I  loot  or  merchandise  ? 

CULLEN 
I  trust  I  am  no  usurper.     Quid  pro  quo  is  my  coat 


MATER 


117 


of  arms.     In   brief,  here   are  my  propositions   and 
deductions  :  First,  you  love  this  Verbeck. 

MATER 

Of  course ! 

CULLEN 

Second  :  you  are  engaged  to  marry  him. 

MATER 

Really! 

CULLEN 

Third  :  in  the  unimpeded  course  of  human  events, 
you  would  doubtless  accompany  him  from  altar  to 
hearthstone  and  rear  up  a  disown  able  number  of 
progeny  in  Dutch  pants  and  spectacles. 

MATER 

Upon  my  word  —  what  corollaries  \  And  can  you 
compute  the  precise  number  by  this  magical  mathe 
matics? 

CULLEN 

Precisely !  —  An  appropriate  number. 

MATER 

Like  the  number  of  good  votes  in  a  ballot-box  ? 

CULLEN 

You  follow  me  perfectly.  Which  brings  me  to  the 
fourth  and  last  proposition:  You  love  also  your 
brother. 

Hence,  we  may  cancel  the  first  three  items  and 


Il8  MATER 

dispense  with  Verbeck  altogether.  For  you  love 
your  brother  and  your  brother  loves  his  career.  But 
his  career  depends  on  the  calculations  of  Cullen. 
Now  Cullen  loves  you.  Therefore  you  love  in  Cullen 
your  brother's  career,  which  is  the  resultant  of 
Cullen's  love  for  you.  By  final  deduction,  therefore, 
you  love  Cullen. 

MATER 

Quod  erat  demonstrandum  ! 

CULLEN 

So  much  for  the  proof;  now  for  the  pudding ! 
[  With  business-like  tone  and  directness^ 

You  will  kindly  inform  your  brother  at  once  that 
you  are  no  longer  engaged  to  Mr.  Verbeck,  but  to 
me.  In  plain  United  States,  what  do  you  say  to  that? 

MATER 

In  plain  United  States,  that's  a  corker  ! 

CULLEN 

Miss  Dean,  that  won't  do.  I  wish  you  good  after 
noon. 

MATER 

It  isn't  five-thirty. 

CULLEN 

Good-by. 

[  Without  looking  back,  he  passes  into  the  hall  and  down  the 
stairs.  After  he  has  disappeared,  Mater  stands  still 
an  instant,  fingering  nervously  the  silk  neckerchief  of 
Michael  on  the  table.  Then  she  goes  to  the  stairway  and 
calls  softly. ~\ 


MATER  119 

MATER 

Mr.  Cullen!     Mr.  Cullen! 

[A  longer  pause.  ~\ 

Arthur  — 

\JJnder  her  breath.~\ 

Cullen,  Esquire  ! 

[She  hurries  back  into  the  room.     Cullen  leaps  up  the  stair 
way  and  bursts  across  the  hall  into  the  room.'] 

CULLEN 
Dearest  Mater ! 

MATER 

\_Raising  an  admonishing  hand.~\ 
Listen  !     When  I  cross  myself,  it's  a  sure  sign. 

CULLEN 

Of  what  ? 

MATER 

True  blue.     No  fibbing.     Now,  look. 
[She  slowly  crosses  herself. ~\ 

I  hereby  renounce  and  cancel  all  intention,  promise 
and  desire  which  I  have  ever  uttered,  improvised  or 
felt,  to  marry  Rudolf  Verbeck.  Is  that  legal  ? 

CULLEN 
Desire !     You  even  renounce  your  desire  ? 

MATER 

Perhaps  that's  an  illegal  word.  I  cannot  renounce, 
I  suppose,  what  I've  never  felt. 


I2O  MATER 

CULLEN 

Goldlocks,  you  cannot  fool  me  so,  —  not  since  I 
have  read  this  letter. 

[Showing  it.~\ 

But  I  believe  your  sign  of  true  blue,  and  so  I  must 
believe  you  have  utterly  renounced  him  —  for  me. 

MATER 

[  Crossing  herself  again.] 
But  I  never  wrote  that  letter. 

CULLEN 

{Trying  to  stop  her  hand.~\ 
Don't !    Don't !     You're  fibbing. 

MATER 

[  Crossing  herself  faster  and  faster."] 
If  that's  a  fib,  I'll  marry  you  whenever  you  please. 

CULLEN 
But  is  that  another  ? 

MATER 

Of  course  it  is.     For  I'll  never  marry  you. 

[As  Cullen  makes  a  desperate  gesture,  she  speaks  with  rip 
pling  rapidity  I\ 

That  is,  of  course,  if  it  isn't,  I  will.  —  To-morrow, 
if  you  like. 


MATER  121 

CULLEN 

Done  !  Fibbing  or  fibless,  you  are  the  most  fasci 
nating  woman  in  the  world,  and  fibbified  or  not,  I  adore 
the  very  sound  and  sight  of  you. 

MATER 

{With  a  dreamy  pause. '.] 
Poor  dear  Mr.  Cullen  —  don't ! 

CULLEN 

Don't  you  !  Don't  try  to  dash  me  now.  I  won't  be 
dashed. 

MATER 

Who  could  have  imagined  it ! 

CULLEN 
What,  that  I  — 

MATER 

No.  Me !  I  have  a  new  symptom.  It's  awful !  I'm 
beginning  to  feel  sorry  for  you. 

CULLEN 
Pity,  saith  the  poet,  is  the  mother  of  love. 

MATER 

[Quickly,  with  naive  relief. ~\ 

That's  it,  I  suppose.  That  makes  me  feel  better 
already.  Especially  as  you  ought  really  —  really  to 
have  some  one  to  look  after  you. 


122  MATER 

CULLEN 

[  With  amorous  cadence.] 
And  will  not  you  f 

MATER 
[Maternally] 
Of  course  I  will. 

[Looking  intently  just  below  his  chin] 
And  so,  from  the  first,  I  want  you  to  promise  me 

something. 

CULLEN 

With  all  my  heart. 

MATER 

No,  your  throat.  Promise  me  not  to  send  your 
collars  to  a  Chinese  laundry.  So  many  of  those 
coolies  have  tuberculosis,  and  you  know  how  they  — 
well,  how  they  —  you  know,  what  the  little  Tritons 
on  street  fountains  do. 

CULLEN 

[Bursting  into  laughter."] 
Oh,  wonderful ! 

MATER 

[Momentarily  puffing  her  cheeks. ] 
Only  not  so  prettily  !     Promise  me  ? 

CULLEN 

Eternally ! 

[Mater,  darting  to  the  piano,  strikes  the  first  chords  of  the 
song  "Oh,  Promise  Me!"  As  Cullen  springs  to  her 
side,  she  breaks  off  abruptly,  and  stares  straight  ahead 
of  her.] 


MATER  123 

MATER 

Demon,  demon,  you're  at  it  again  ! 

CULLEN 
Is  it  quite  polite  to  call  me  demon? 

MATER 

Oh,  not  you. 

\Pointing  at  the  air  in  front  of  her.'} 
Him! 

CULLEN 

Who? 

MATER 
\_JDarkly.~] 
My  familiar  slave  and  master. 

CULLEN 

[Puzzled  at  her  expression. ~\ 
The  devil ! 

MATER 

Exactly!     All    the   bewitching    ladies   have   little 
devils   to   serve   them, 

\Sighing.~\ 

whom   they    also    serve.      So    do    the    great   sages. 
Socrates  had  one ;  you  remember. 

CULLEN 

Is  that  a  guess  at  my  age  ? 

MATER 

Now  my  demon —     Do  you  want  to  know  what 
he's  like? 


124  MATER 

CULLEN 

I  must  know. 

MATER 

Usually  he's  a  faun  and  on  tiptoe  he  stands  about 

[Measuring  about  an  inch  with  her  fingers  ^\ 
so  high,  though  sometimes  he  shoots  up  so  tall  that 
he  shakes  the  stars  from  his  curls.  He's  all  kinds 
of  artists  and  philosophers.  First,  a  musician;  he 
has  composed  a  Symphonie  Comique,  in  which  he 
plays  himself  ;  and  whenever  the  tender  violins  grow 

/melancholy,  he  bleats  on  his  droll  bassoon  —  so  nearly 
off  the  key,  that  it  gives  you  shivers  of  fun  to  hear 
his  new-found  harmony.  Next,  a  painter ;  he  has  a 
color-box  called  Paradox,  with  brushes  of  lamb's  wool, 
and  with  these  he  will  retouch  a  middle-aged  Mamma 
to  pass  for  a  debutante  in  the  eyes  of  a  lover.  Then 
he's  a  biologist ;  he  puts  fleas  in  men's  ears,  which 
they  can  never  scratch  out ;  and  bees  in  their  bon 
nets,  that  don't  sting  but  buzz  them  to  death ;  and 
lap-dog  puppies  on  the  sills  of  their  doors;  where 
upon  he  cries,  "  Wolf !  wolf ! "  and  howls  horridly 
with  laughter.  Most  of  all,  he's  a  Humanist.  He 
will  put  on  the  cloak  of  Erasmus,  the  cap  of  La  Fon 
taine  and  the  girdle  of  Gargantua,  and,  mounting  the 
rostrum  of  an  American  thimble,  harangue  the  na 
tion  through  the  eye  of  a  needle.  Oh,  he's  an  ador 
able  demon ! 

CULLEN 
So  this  is  your  guide  and  mentor  ? 


MATER  125 

MATER 

And  true  love !  To  be  honest,  I  know  he's  a  fib,  a 
tease  and  a  March-hare.  That's  why  I  introduced 
you.  You  will  appreciate  him.  He's  Michael's 
abomination.  Michael  can't  bear  to  hear  me  even 
mention  his  names. 

CULLEN 

Names  !     Has  he  more  than  one  ? 

MATER 

Lots !  Sometimes  I  call  him  Plato,  sometimes 
Punch;  but  his  formal  family  title  is  Conscience. 

CULLEN 
\_Passionately.~\ 

You  captivating  girl!  Can  you  guess  how  you 
have  bewildered  — 

MATER 

No,  no  !     You  mustn't. 

[She  starts  from  him  to  the  edge  of  the  piano,  where  she 
stands  with  a  look  half  frightened,  half  abstracted, 
while  he  speaks  to  her.~\ 

CULLEN 

You  must  let  me  stutter — cry  out.     My  gladness 
hurts.     You've  burst  upon  me  sudden  and  strange, 
like  a  sharp  memory  —  a  dear  sickness  in  childl """*A 
a  first  spring-day  in  the  country.     I  am  petulant 
the  joy  of  you,  faint  with  the  wonder.     I  don't  recog- 


126  MATER 

nize  even  my  voice,  my  words,  the  beautiful  world  in 
this  room. 

MATER 

How  could  I ! 

CULLEN 

Years,  cold  hard  years  of  gray  business  and  dull 
rascality  —  they're  brushed  to  the  horizon,  and  here 
you  are  blooming  instead ;  and  here  I  am  speaking 
once  more  the  heart  of  me  —  sharing  with  you  fancy 
and  beauty  and  love,  just  as  once  I  used  to  share 
them  in  college  days  with  my  books,  and  the  warm 
fields,  golden  with  young  cattle  and  the  sunset.  I 
don't  know  myself,  Mater;  you  have  made  me  all 
over. 

MATER 

Dear  me !     Dear  me !    What  a  wretch ! 

CULLEN 
Oh,  I  know;  I'm  a  chump  and  a  rascal. 

MATER 

Purgatory's  too  good ! 

CULLEN 

I  have  played  a  political  trick  and  I'm  forcing  you 

to  step  into  your  brother's  trap  to  save  him.     So  be 

it !     I  cannot,  I  will  not  lose  you.     Only  believe  me 

"''Mgh  it's  a  rascal  that  catches  you,  it's  a  better 

f /  will   keep   you.     Once   you   declare  yourself 

mme — I'll  lay  out  my  life  to  be  worthy  of  you. 


MATER  12  f 

MATER 

Now  it's  all  up.     I  cannot  possibly  go  on. 

CULLEN 

You  can't  believe  me  ? 

MATER 

But  worse  yet,  I  ought  to  go  on  —  now.     You'd 
never  forgive  me. 

CULLEN 

Do  you  care  what  I'd  do  ? 

MATER 

But  worst  of  all,  I  must  go  on.     Oh,  I'll  never  for 
give  you. 

CULLEN 

For  what  blackest  of  my  sins  ? 

MATER 

Treachery.     I  deposited  all  my  faith  in  you,  and 
now  you  have  failed. 

CULLEN 

How  can  you  speak  so  ? 

MATER 

How  can  you  look  so  ?     I  told  you  to  be  a  humor 
ist,  and  you  said  you'd  try. 

CULLEN 

Dear  one,  all  that  nonsense  is  passed  away. 


128  MATER 

MATER 
Sic  transit  gloria  ! 

\Shefeels  for  her  handkerchief] 

CULLEN 

\_Appealingly. ~\ 
Mater ! 

MATER 

No !     While  you  were  witty,  it  was  all  right. 

CULLEN 

Mater,  you're  not  crying  ? 

MATER 

Yes  —  probably  !  There  seems  to  be  no  end  to  it. 
Now  I'm  beginning  to  feel  sorry  for  myself. 

CULLEN 
You  are  an  angel. 

MATER 

You  don't  know  me.  I'm  a  desert.  But  Moses 
smote  the  rock,  and  whosoever  smiteth  the  rock  of 
my  self-pity  — 

CULLEN 

Please ! 

MATER 

After  him  —  the  deluge ! 

CULLEN 
[Dropping  beside  her,  snatches  her  hand.~\ 

Dearest  — 

[He  kisses  it.] 


MATER  129 

MATER 

[Starting  away.~\ 
Don't,  don't ! 

{Enter  MICHAEL.     He  strides  toward  Cullen.~\ 

MICHAEL 
How  dare  you ! 

MATER 

Michael !     Be  careful !     There's  too  much  light. 

[She  springs  to  the  curtains  and  partly  draws  them,  obscuring 
the  room.~\ 

MICHAEL 
[To  Cullen.~\ 
Explain  again  !     Can  you  ? 

CULLEN 

[Starting  to  his  feet.'] 
Ask  her. 

MATER 

Shade  your  eyes,  boy.     Sit  down. 

MICHAEL 
[Ignoring  her.~\ 

First  you  try  to  taint  my  honor  in  the  nation,  and 
now  in  my  family. 

CULLEN 

[Tense  and  quiet] 
Ask  her. 


I3O  MATER 

MICHAEL 

Did  he  sneak  in  the  window,  Mater?  Or  up  the 
back-stairs  ?  Look  out  for  your  silver  and  trinkets. 
We'd  better  search  him. 

MATER 

Don't  rack  your  voice  so,  dear.  And  your  poor 
head  !  Remember  what  the  doctor  — 

MICHAEL 

He  touched  you  ! 

MATER 

There,  there  !     Mr.  Cullen  was  just  telling  me  — 

MICHAEL 
{Staring  at  her.~\ 
What!  — What! 

MATER 

In  the  course  of  our  conversation  — 

MICHAEL 

You  received  him!  You  spoke  with  him  again 
after —  You've  lied  to  me  !  All  the  worse  for  him. 

MATER 
Michael ! 

MICHAEL 
\To  Cullen.] 
Go,  or  I'll  put  you  out  with  my  own  hands. 


MATER  131 

CULLEN 

\Impcr turbablyt  looking  from  his  watch  to  Mater] 
Five  o'clock. 

\_Hc  walks  slowly  toward  the  hall.~\ 

MICHAEL 
Faster ! 

\_He  moves  toward  Cullen  ;  Mater  comes  between.'] 

MATER 

Don't!     Mr.   Cullen   has  just  asked   me —    Oh, 
Michael ! 

MICHAEL 

[  Glaring.] 
Quick ! 

MATER 
To  marry  him. 

MICHAEL 

[To  Cullen] 
You  infamous  — 

MATER 

Wait!     And  I  have  just — consented — with  con 
ditions. 

MICHAEL 

Consented ! 

[He  stares  at  Mater,  and  sways.] 
You're  stark  mad. 

MATER 

Oh,  no,  I'm  quite  calm.     See ! 

[Looking  at  Cullen] 
We  both  are. 


132  MATER 

MICHAEL 

Then  God  curse  him  and  you  and  all  of  us  !  Better. 
He'd  kill  you  in  your  calmness  and  me  —  me  in 
this  — 

MATER 

Boy !     My  boy ! 

MICHAEL 

[Pointing  toward  the  portrait.  ~\ 
You  stood  here  with  me. 

MATER  » 

[  With  poignant  appeal^ 
Please  don't ! 

MICHAEL 

You  stood  here  with  me.  You  stood  here  with  me. 
It  was  on  his  anniversary. 

MATER 
Stop !     I  can't  bear  it.     I'll  explain  every  bit. 

MICHAEL 

Now  you'll  explain,  too !  He's  given  you  the 
plague.  —  Hide-the-thimble  !  That  was  the  game  ! 
—  Go! 

[Driving  her  by  his  gesture  toward  the  hall.~\ 
Go   with  him!     Hypocrites  —  hand  in  hand.     Your 
silly  head's  turned.  —  You're  a  thimble — a  vanity! 
Go  !     You're  empty,  empty,  empty  —  all  but  of  sin 
ning! 


MATER  133 


MATER 
[To  CuOen.] 

Come  !     He's  too  ill.  —  It's  killing  him. 
[They  hurry  off.~\ 

MICHAEL 

Go,  go,  go,  go  ! 

[Turning  with  a  hoarse  fry."] 
Father ! 

[He  falls,  lying  near  the  portrait. ~\ 


ACT  III 


ACT  III 

The  room  is  softly  lighted  by  electricity  through  burners  of 
amber-colored  glass.  The  bay-window  curtains  are 
partly  drawn,  as  at  the  end  of  Act  II.  Between  them 
glows  the  whiter  light  of  an  unseen  arc  lamp  outdoors. 

On  the  divan  sits  MICHAEL  —  his  head  in  his  hands.  Near 
him  stands  MARY.  From  outside  comes  the  clamor  of 
distant  horns  and  bells  and  shouting,  with  occasional 
detonations  of  fireworks. 

MARY 
Listen  now !     They  are  nearer. 

MICHAEL 
[Looks  up  dully. ~\ 
You  found  me  here,  you  say,  —  on  the  divan  ? 

MARY 

I   found   you  sleeping  here.     I  overslept  myself. 
She  didn't  wake  me  from  my  nap,  of  course. 

MICHAEL 
Strange ! 

MARY 
[Indicating  a  decanter  and  empty  wine-glass  on  the  table. ~\ 

You   must  have  got  yourself  this  port,  after  you 
recovered  from  your  fainting. 


138  MATER 

MICHAEL 

And  I  drunk  that !     I  remember  nothing  of  it. 
\He  rises.'} 

MARY 
Are  you  stronger  now  ? 

MICHAEL 

Much. 

MARY 
\_Listening  with  excitement^} 

Just  hear  them  ! 

MICHAEL 

And  all  this  you've  been  telling  me  —  what  was  it  ? 

MARY 

The  flowers  he  sent  here  for  Miss  Dean  were  for 
her — not  me.  He  mistook  her  from  the  first  for 
your  sister ;  and  she  evidently  has  let  him  believe  it. 

MICHAEL 

\_Hisface  twitching^ 

Stop  !     Don't  speak  of  this  again.     It's  unbearable. 

[ Ma ry  puts  her  hand  affectionately  on  his  shoulder.     They 

embrace  quickly  ;  then  he  puts  her  away  from  him. — 

With  the  noise  of  approaching  horns  are  now  mingled 

the  strains  of  a  brass-band.'] 

What  time  is  it  ? 

MARY 

Quarter  of  twelve.  The  committee  were  here,  and 
several  reporters. 


MATER 
MICHAEL 

I  can't  see  them. 

MARY 

I  told  them  to  come  back  in  an  hour. 
\The  shouting  voices   outside   break   irregularly   and  then 
harmoniously  into  the  tune  of  "John  Brown1  s  Body" 
Mary  rushes  to  the  bay-window  and  looks  out.~\ 
Such  crowds   in  the   street,  Michael !     They  are 
marching  here. 

MICHAEL 

I  have  dreamed  of  this  for  years  ! 

[He  shuts  out  the  sounds  with  his  hands.] 

THE  VOICES  OUTSIDE 

[Singing  deeply  to  the  brazen  blare  of  the  instruments  and 
the  rhythm  of  marching.~\ 

They  have  strewn  the  burning  hearths  of  men  with 

darkness  and  with  mire, 
They  have  heaped  the  burning  hearts  of  men  with 

ashes  of  desire, 
Yet  from  out  those  hearts  and  hearths  still  leaps  the 

quick  eternal  fire 

Whose  flame  is  liberty. 

[The  singing  ceases;  cries  of  " Dean  !  Dean/11  resound 
beneath  the  window  ;  Mary  makes  a  gesture  for  Michael 
to  come  ;  he  sinks  into  a  chair,  still  stopping  his  ears. 
The  voices  take  up  the  song  again."] 

For  the  freedom  of  the  laborer  is  freedom  from  his 

toil, 
And  freedom  of  the  citizen  is  right  to  share  the  soil, 


140  MATER 

And  the  freedom  of  our  country  is  the  loosing  of  the 
coil 

That  chokes  posterity. 

[Cries  of  "  Dean  !  Speech  !  "  etc.,  and  the  cheering  grows 
more  insistent  Mary  bends  over  Michael  with  an  ap 
pealing  look. ,] 

MICHAEL 

They  must  go  away. 

MARY 
They  won't,  till  you  speak  to  them.     Come ! 

MICHAEL 
\_Rising  slowly. ~\ 

All  right.  One  pang  is  no  worse  than  the  other. 
[He  goes  to  the  casement  and  throws  it  open.  Mary  accom 
panies  him,  but  sits  far  back  in  the  corner  of  the  window- 
seat,  left.  The  cheering  becomes  wilder.  Just  as 
Michael  opens  the  window,  there  emerges  \righf\  from  be 
hind  the  heavy  folds  of  the  curtain,  MATER.  As  Mi 
chael  speaks  to  the  invisible  crowd  below,  she  stands  at 
the  edge  of  the  curtain,  watching  him  rapturously^ 

MICHAEL 

Citizens : 

You  have  honored  me  by  electing  me  as  a  leader. 
Therefore  I  will  honor  you  by  leading  you  toward  the 
goal  I  promised.  That  goal  is  civic  liberty  —  the  self- 
interest  of  each  in  the  happiness  of  all.  Remember, 
citizens,  I  will  lead  you,  and  not  follow.  If  there  be 
some  of  you  who  later  shall  vacillate  or  hang  back, 


MATER 


141 


they  shall  not  hinder  the  advancing  cause.  I  am 
now  a  captain  in  your  ranks;  and  until  you  shall 
level  your  votes  at  me  again  and  bring  me  down,  I 
will  remain  your  captain. 

\_He  turns  from  the  window  and  the  cheering  outside  bursts 
again  into  song,  gradually  diminishing  in  the  distance.~\ 

MATER 

[  Coming  forward  impetuously] 
My  boy !     My  glorious  boy  ! 

MICHAEL 

\_Staring  at  her.  ] 
Mater! 

MATER 

[Throwing  her  arms  about  him."] 
Elected !     At  last ! 

MICHAEL 
[Putting  her  back,  with  a  shudder. ~\ 

At  last ! 

MATER 

Didn't  you  like  your  serenade  ? 
[Gazes  an  instant,  then  turns  toward  Mary,  frightened. \ 
Is  he  worse  ? 

MARY 

[  With  fierceness.  ] 
Will  you  torture  him  now  ? 

MATER 

Torture ! 


142  MATER 

MARY 

So  that  was  why  you  wore  them ! 

MATER 
[Smiling.  ] 
Yes.     Didn't  it  work  well ! 

MARY 

Oh,  it's  unspeakable  ! 

[She  rushes  from  the  room."] 

MATER 

[Bewildered.'} 
Hasn't  she  told  you  ?  —  The  absurd  mix-up  ? 

MICHAEL 

Mother  and  daughter  :  Yes.     She  has  told  me. 

MATER 

That's  good.     Then  the  play's  over.  — Well,  I'm 
waiting  for  bouquets. 

MICHAEL 

[  Smiling  painfully.  ] 
Of  daffodils  ? 

MATER 

Anything  yellow  and  becoming.     Wasn't  I  mon 
strously  clever  ? 

MICHAEL 

Monstrously,  monstrously  !  —  For  you  are  a  mother. 


MATER  143 

MATER 

And  fat  and  forty,  my  dear  !  To  impersonate 
your  own  progeny  in  the  sere  and  yellow,  when,  as 
Shakespeare  has  it,  "  Theheydey  in  the  blood  is  tame," 
and  so,  to  lure  your  delightsome  villain  lover  into  the 
secret  tower  of  your  family,  and  there  —  with  the 
blazing  edge  of  a  life-membership  ticket  —  to  blind 
him,  and  bind  him  body  and  soul,  till  the  election  bells 
ring  out  "  Liberty  and  Life-work !  "  to  the  hero  — 
There's  the  imagination  of  Moliere  and  the  finesse  of 

Rachel! 

MICHAEL 

What  devil  has  sent  you  here  to  damn  me  like  this  ? 

MATER 

[Pausing,  as  if  struck.  ~\ 
Boysie  !     Don't  you  understand  ? 

MICHAEL 

Of  course  I  understand.  And  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life,  I  curse  God  for  understanding. 

MATER 

Forgive  me.  You're  weak  and  ill.  I  was  so  happy 
I'd  almost  forgot.  Forgive  me. 

MICHAEL 

You  come  to  me  now  —  now  to  ask  forgiveness  ? 
Don't  tempt  me  beyond  my  strength.  I  have  cursed 
God  and  myself ;  don't  — 

MATER 

[Starting  to  kavc.~\ 
I'll  go,  dear.    Rest  awhile. 


144  MATER 

MICHAEL 
[Detaining  her.] 

No ;  but  you  shall  not  go.  Now  is  as  good  as  never. 
Perhaps  when  you  are  gone,  you  might  forget  to  ask 
again.  And  then  to  remind  you  —  I  myself  might 
forget  my  duty. 

MATER 

Duty! 

MICHAEL 

But  since  you  have  forgot  so  much  —  so  be  it ! 
You  hated  anniversaries,  you  told  me.  Now  I  know 
why.  But  you  love  your  old  poetry  and  superstitions. 
Listen,  then ! 

\_The  dock  is  striking  twelve.~] 

Midnight :  At  this  hour,  your  forgotten  shall  re 
turn  again.     Once  before  you  showed  him  to  me  in  a 
glass ;  now  I  show  him  to  you  in  the  flesh. 
^Imperiously.^ 

Look  at  me,  Mater.     Do  you  remember  now  f 

MATER 
[Pensively. ~\ 
All  but  the  name. 

MICHAEL 

Must  I  speak  it  again  and  remind  you  how  sacred  a 
name — 

MATER 

\_With  gentle  reserve^ 
No,  boy;  you  cannot  speak  it;  for  not  even  you 


MATER 


145 


ever  heard  that  name  he  called  me  by,  and  I  will  never 
tell  you. 

MICHAEL 

I  stand  here  in  his  place  and  I  will  rebuke — 

MATER 

[  With  moved  dignity. ~\ 
Your  mother !     Not  —  his  wife. 

MICHAEL 

And  if  it  be  necessary  — 

MATER 

[  Quiet  but  commanding.'] 

Take  care,  my  son  !     He  would  not  permit  you. 
[She  looks  toward  the  portrait.'} 

MICHAEL 

\No  longer  dictatorial,  but  appealingfy.~\ 
Look  there,  then,  Mater.     Look  well,  and  think  — 
think  of  your  wretched,  frivolous  f alling-off  —  from 
such    honorable   manhood,    to    such    depravity  —  a 
scoundrel  — 

[Mater  turns  away,  hiding  her  face  from  Michael.  In  the 
distance  the  shouts  and  music  and  bells  are  faintly  heard. 
Mater  listens  y  bowing  her  head  convulsively^ 

Yes,  it  is  well  for  you  to  sob,  and  remember. 

MATER 

O  memorable  midnight!  Ever  on  this  night,  my 
Michael,  even  after  a  hundred  years,  when  your 
childrens'  children  shall  pass  by  my  forgotten  grave — 


146  MATER 

MICHAEL 

My  God !     You  are  laughing  / 

MATER 

Yes,  boy;  and  the  flowers  that  spring  from  me 
then  shall  titter  in  the  face  of  my  tombstone,  while 
the  little  honeysuckles  blow  election  horns,  and  the 
daffodils  laugh  till  their  petals  are  filled  with  tears. 

MICHAEL 

Oh,  you  are  as  light  as  those  petals,  and  your  tears 
are  as  unhuman.  Irredeemably  shallow  —  fickle, 
fickle  woman !  A  butterfly  on  a  daffodil  —  and  so 
you  are  caught  in  his  fingers ;  by  a  common  hypo 
crite,  a  crooked  scoundrel,  a  political  rat  — 
\Seizing  her  wrist.~\ 

Can  nothing  sacred  make  you  to  see  yourself  and 
him  for  what  — 

MATER 

Gently,  my  mad  prince !  Mr.  Cullen  is  not  yet 
King  of  Denmark,  nor  even  a  rat  in  the  wall ;  and 
though  you  have  closeted  your  mother  to  show  to  her 
her  own  foolish  little  face,  please  don't  fancy  you 
must  be  cruel  only  to  be  kind. 

MICHAEL 

Mater,  if  ever  I  should  go  mad,  it  would  be  an  in 
heritance  from  you. 

MATER 

"  O  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gie  us  "  —  to  find 


MATER 


147 


out !     Now  lie  down,  dear.     How  did  my  port  wine 
agree  with  you  ? 

MICHAEL 

You  gave  it  to  me  ? 

MATER 

Yes,  you  were  a  little  — 

\Touches  her  forehead.~\ 

MICHAEL 
Where's  Cullen,  then  ? 

MATER 

So  you  will  let  me  explain.  —  I  don't  know  where 
Mr.  Cullen  is. 

MICHAEL 

But  you  went  together  — 

MATER 

As  far  as  the  front  hall.  Then  he  begged  to  come 
back  for  Welsh  rarebit,  and  I  returned  here  to  tuck 
you  up  comfily.  He  promised  not  to  go  near  the 
ballot-boxes. 

MICHAEL 

Ballot-boxes  ! 

MATER 

And  you  see  he  has  kept  his  word ;  for  I  have 
triumphed  and  you  have  been  elected. 

MICHAEL 

By  the  people.     How  does  that  concern  you  ? 


148  MATER 

MATER 

Me,  my  dear  ?     I  am  the  people.     I  elected  you. 

MICHAEL 

So  you  did  bribe  him  with  your  gold ! 

MATER 

Yes ;  so  he  said.    "  Pure  gold,"  he  called  me.     He 
admires  my  hair. 

MICHAEL 

[Gasping.'} 

What !     You  not  only  broke  your  word  to  me  — 
Mater  !     You  have  sold  yourself  ? 

MATER 
No  ;  I  have  sold  Mr.  Cullen  —  poor  man ! 

[Slowly  and  distinctly.] 

In  plain,  predigested  English  for  infants :   I  have 
fooled  him,  my  dear. 

MICHAEL 

[Gazes  an  instant,  then  bursts  forth  wildly '.] 
And  you  have  fooled  me  !     I  will  never  forgive  you. 

MATER 

For  my  necessary  little  subterfuge  ? 

MICHAEL 

Subterfuge,   in   my  life-work  !     Oh,  I'll  renounce 
my  election. 


MATER  149 

MATER 

And  desert  your  country,  for  a  fib  or  two  of  mine  ? 

MICHAEL 

A  fib  is  a  falsehood ;  and  falsehood  between 
mother  and  son  is  unforgivable. 

MATER 

But  it's  right —  sometimes. 

MICHAEL 

No,  wrong ;  unforgivably  wrong. 

MATER 

Come,  boy,  admit :    This  time  it  was  common  sense. 

MICHAEL 

Common  sense ! 

MATER 

And  remember  you've  said  yourself  :  Nothing  can 
be  wrong  when  it's  common  sense.  So  kiss  and 
make  up. 

MICHAEL 

Make  up  !  I  see  !  You'll  try  to  do  with  me  what 
you  did  with  father.  You'd  dissemble  first  —  and 
afterwards  you'd  make  up.  But  not  so  with  me ! 
Don't  dream  it !  I  will  never  —  never  make  up  ! 

\_Exit  impetuously,  lower  left.~\ 


150  MATER 

MATER 

[Repressing  tears,  sinks  into  a  chair."] 
The  dear  old  tragedy  !     Heighde'me  ! 

[CULLEN  comes  up  the  stairs  and  enters.     He  carries  a  white 
tissue-paper  parcel,  which  he  lays  on  the  piano. ,] 

CULLEN 
Mater ! 

MATER 

\_fiising  with  a  start.~\ 
You  ?     Isn't  it  rather  late  —  for  you  ? 

CULLEN 

{Showing  his  watch.~\ 
It's  to-morrow. 

MATER 

[Shaking  her  head.~\ 
To-morrow  never  comes. 

CULLEN 

But  /  have  come,  to  ask  — 

MATER 

After  Michael?     He's  better.     He's  in  the  second 
stage  already. 

CULLEN 

The  real  fact  is  — 

MATER 

There  are  three,  you  know  —  in  the  masculine. 


MATER  151 

CULLEN 
Three  stages  ? 

MATER 

In  the  tragedy.  In  the  first  stage,  you  wake  up  — 
to  the  feminine  offence ;  in  the  second,  you  break  up 
—  well,  anything ;  in  the  third,  you  make  up — every 
thing.  Wake  up,  Break  up,  Make  up:  there's  the 
trilogy  of  Man ! 

CULLEN 

My  dear  Mater,  as  for  me  — 

MATER 

Oh,  as  for  you,  you're  not  even  in  the  first  yet. 
You're  not  likely  to  wake  up  till  bed-time.  I've 
set  your  alarm  very  late. 

CULLEN 

May  I  get  in  a  word?  —  I've  brought  you  a  swap 
for  the  thimble. 

\_Handing  it."] 

MATER 

A  ring!  So  you've  sent  for  the  parson  —  hop, 
skip  and  jump  ? 

CULLEN 

Not  as  hasty  as  that     This  is  merely  — 

MATER 

[Taking  the  ring.~\ 
A  moonstone! 


152  MATER 

CULLEN 

In  souvenir. 

MATER 

The  stone  of  fickleness. 

CULLEN 

What? 

MATER 

What  a  lovely  surprise!  They  will  be  so  de 
lighted. 

CULLEN 
They  will? 

[The  knob  of  the  door — lower  left — turns  with  a  slight 
sound,  the  door  opens  a  crack,  and  Mary  coughs  osten 
tatiously  outside.'] 

What's  that? 

MATER 

That's  just  the  click,  before  it  goes  off. 
[Enter  MARY.] 

MARY 
I  beg  your  pardon. 

MATER 

Come  in. 

MARY 

Didn't  Rudolf  say  he  would  come? 

MATER 

Yes,  dear;  he's  coming  in  for  a  Welsh  rarebit. 
And  look!  See  what  our  friend,  Mr.  Cullen,  has 
brought  to  you  and  Rudolf. 


MATER  !53 

MARY 

[Staring.] 
For  us?    A  ring! 

CULLEN 
[Fidgeting.] 
My  dear  Miss  Dean  — 

MATER 

In    souvenir  of    Michael's    election    and    the    an 
nouncement  of   your  engagement   to    Mr.  Verbeck. 

MARY 

\_Drawing  herself  up.~] 
Mother ! 

\_A  pause :  Mater,  with  rigid,  outstretched  hand  holding  the 
ring  toward  Mary,  does  not  stir  an  eyelash, ,] 

CULLEN 

[Barely  vocalizing  the  word.~\ 
Mother? 

MATER 
\_Re  taxing. ~\ 

You  remember  my  daughter,  whom   you   met   at 
the  Robinsons'  ? 

[  Cullen  bows  slightly. ~\ 

At  the  riddle  party! 

CULLEN 

\_Murmurs  faintly] 
"Wake  up." 

[Enter  RUDOLF,  from  the  hall.'] 


154  MATER 

MATER 

[Still  holding  out  the  ring  toward  Mary.] 
Such  a  lovely  surprise  ! 

RUDOLF 

Hulloa !     So  I'm  just  in  time  for  the  ceremony. 

MARY 

[Going  to  him  eagerly.] 
Rudolf  dear  !     You  got  my  letter  ? 

RUDOLF 

Sure,  I  got  it. 

[Looking  at  Cullen.~\ 
Ask  him. 

CULLEN 

[Mutters.] 
"  Break  up." 

MARY 

Ask  whom  ? 

RUDOLF 

Your  ring-partner  there  in  the  ceremony.  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  turn  up  for  the  betrothals,  so 
as  not  to  spoil  your  fun. 

MARY 
Betrothals! 

CULLEN 

[  With  a  whimsical  expression,  takes  from  his  pocket  Mary's 
letter  and  lays  it  on  the  table  beside  Mater.] 

"Makeup?" 
[Mater,  taking  it,  speaks  to  Mary,  who  is  gazing  astounded] 


MAtER  155 

MATER 

I  was  showing  Mr.  Cullen  your  beautiful  hand 
writing,  dear. 

MARY 

\Snatchingfrom  Mater  the  letter.  ~\ 
You  —  you  showed  him  ! 

RUDOLF 

{Lifts  the  thimble  from  the  table  and  twirls  it} 
First  it  was  a  thimble,  and  now  it's  a  ring. 

MARY 

Is  this  a  farce  ?  That's  mother's  ;  it  belongs  to  — 
to  them. 

RUDOLF 

[Beginning  to  read  from  it.~\ 
M.D.— 

MATER 

{Taking  the  thimble.} 

Mother  Dean,  Doctor  of  Matrimony  !  —  It's  mine 
and  I  shall  keep  it  always.  Mr.  Cullen  helped  me 
win  it  —  as  a  booby  prize. 

CULLEN 


Booby  !  —  ///     It  forever  ! 

RUDOLF 

I  say,  but  Mater  — 

[Mary  beckons  Rudolf  to  the  bay-window,  where  they  con 
verse  eagerly.  ~\ 


156  MATER 

CULLEN 

"  Mater  ! "  —  Mater,  from  you  I  have  learned  my 
first  advanced  Latin  and  diplomacy. 

MATER 

Think  of  me,  then,  as  your  Alma  Mater. 
\Liftingfrom  the  table  the  big  envelope^ 

Receive  your  diploma,  with  honorable  mention 
in  Politics,  and  go  forth  now  to  face  your  new 
world. 

[She  hands  to  him  the  envelope.     He  takes  it  with  mingled 
pleasantry  and  emotion.~\ 

CULLEN 

My  world !  You  have  made  it  over  new  so  fre 
quently  that  now  it's  all  nebulous  fire. 

MATER 

So  the  prize  graduate  always  feels  on  his  Com 
mencement. 

CULLEN 

Commencement !  —  May  I  then  hope  that  even 
still  —  or  must  I  be  hopeless  ? 

MATER 

Hopeless  of  what? 

CULLEN 

That  I  may  come  again  enchanted,  and  find  you  as 
before,  enchantress,  in  your  golden  garden,  with  your 
demon  — 


MATER  i$p 

MATER 

Always  !  Here  you  shall  find  Judy,  with  thimble 
and  needle,  still  fighting  the  battles  of  her  baby. 

CULLEN 

No,  but  Juliet  — 

MATER 

By  any  other  name  —  may  wear  a  thimble ! 

CULLEN 

Why,  it's  a  dream  —  ridiculous!  You — you,  my 
Madonna  of  the  daffodils  — 

MATER 
All  madonnas  must  have  babes,  you  know. 

\_With  happy  self-satisfaction.^ 

And  mine's  elected !  I'm  so  much  obliged  for 
your  faith  in  me. 

CULLEN 

And  I  for  yours. 

MATER 

{Triumphantly^ 
Oh,  but  you  were  transparent ! 

CULLEN 

[  With  assumed  naviete.'] 
Easy,  was  I  ? 

MATER 

As  easy  as  fibbing.  Though,  I  must  confess,  that 
when  you  threatened  me  with  ballot-boxes  at  the  last 
minute,  I  trembled. 


158  MATER 

CULLEN 

And  /  must  confess,  that  when  I  threatened  you 
with  those  ballot-boxes,  I  fibbed. 

MATER 
{Blankly.] 
You  fibbed !     How  is  it  possible  ? 

CULLEN 

Well,  you  see,  it's  possible  for  an  expert  to  count 
two  thousand  votes  wrong  —  but  hardly  twenty- 
thousand  ! 

\_He  looks  at  her  with  shrewd  amusement.     She  frowns  an 
instant,  then  beams  upon  him.] 

MATER 

Mr.  Cullen,  I  love  you !  I've  done  you  an  in 
justice. 

[She  holds  out  her  hand.     Starting  in  ardent  surprise,  he 
reaches  to  take  it] 

You  are  a  humorist,  after  all. 

[  Cullen  checks  himelf,  smiles  at  her  smile,  bows  and  kisses 
the  tips  of  her  finger s.~\ 

CULLEN 
I  tried  hard. 

MATER 

And  I  shall  always  depend  on  you.  And  Michael, 
I  trust,  will  continue  to  prosper  in  politics  ? 

CULLEN 

Michael  might  prosper  in  Hell,  with  such  a  mother. 


MATER  159 

MATER 

Such  a  devil  of  a  mother,  you  would  say  ? 

CULLEN 

I  can't  express  —  what  I  would  say. 

MARY 

[  Coming  forward  with  Rudolf. ~\ 
Mother,  I  can't  make  it  out.     If  that  ring. — 

RUDOLF 

And  besides,  Mary's  been  telling  me  — 

MATER 

Ha !  Rudolf  !     You  are  just  —  how  do  you  say  it  ? 
— just  the  cheese  ! 

RUDOLF 

What  for  ? 

MATER 

For  the  Welsh  rarebit.     It's  in  the  kitchen.     Will 
you  ask  Nellie  — 

RUDOLF 
[Dubiously.'] 
What,  again  ?     I'm  all  tangled  up. 

MATER 

\Putting  one  arm  through  his  and  the  other  around  Mary.'] 
Now  this  is  what  I  call  a  true-lover's  knot. 


Mother 


MARY 
\_Embarrassed.~\ 


l6o  MATER 

RUDOLF 

[  With  enthusiasm^ 
She's  all  right,  Mary. 

MATER 

[  Waving  them  toward  the  door.~\ 
And  plenty  of  cheese  for  Mr.  Cullen ! 

CULLEN 

I  regret !  I  regret !  I  would  give  my  career  to  re 
main,  but  destiny  forbids  —  and  dyspepsia. 

[Lifting  the  white  tissue-paper  parcel  from  the  piano .] 

Machiavel  of  ladies,  within  your  realm  of  flowers, 
I  have  met  —  and  I  have  lost  —  my  better  half. 

MATER 

He  who  loses  —  even  half  of  himself  shall  find  a 

whole  kingdom. 

[Noticing  the  parcell\ 

What's  this  ? 

CULLEN 

The  white  flag.  Dearest  Mater,  —  "  short  for 
Matilda,"  —  with  this  I  surrender  the  field,  with  my 
filial  allegiance. 

\_He  hands  her  the  parcel.  While  she  stands  unwrapping 
the  folds  of  paper,  he  goes  quietly  to  the  hall,  where  he 
pauses  —  her  back  being  toward  him.~\ 


Pansies ! 


MATER 
[Exclaiming  with  pleasure '.] 


MATER  161 

CULLEN 
You'll  supply  the  quotation. 

[He  goes  down  the  stairs. ] 

MATER 
[Starting.] 
Is  he  gone  ?  —  Finis  !    Farewell,  Romeo  ! 

MARY 

Mother,  I  feel  sure  there's  a  joke  somewhere ;  I 
wish  I  could  see  the  point. 

MATER 
[Pensively] 
I've  lost  sight  of  it  myself,  dear  —  for  the  moment. 

MARY 

[Awkwardly  caressing  her] 
Anyway — forgive  me. 

MATER 
You  darling ! 

[Mussing  Mary's  hair  and  taking  off  her  spectacles]      l^ 
Such  eyes  —  behind  windows  ! 

[Pushing  her  toward  Rudolf] 
Now  you  go  and  play  Juliet. 

Sir  Lover,  light  down  and   hunt  the  Rarebit  for 
your  lady-love. 

RUDOLF 
[At  the  door.] 
Come  on,  Mary. 


1 62  MATER 

MARY 

Rudolf  o  ! 

\_They  go  out  together.  From  below  comes  the  sound  of  a 
door  closing.  Mater,  the  pansies  in  her  hands,  goes  to 
the  bay-window,  knocks  on  the  pane,  pushes  open  the 
casement  and  looks  down.~\ 

MATER 

[  Waving  the  flowers."] 
Remember  about  your  laundry  ! 

[Tosses  two  or  three  pansies  out.~\ 
For  thoughts ! 

[She  waves  again,  closes  the  casement,  comes  to  the  table  and 
drops  the  pansies  absent-mindedly.  Then  she  goes  slowly 
to  the  piano,  sits,  plays  and  sings  quietly.  While  she 
does  so,  Michael  opens  the  door,  upper  left,  and  stands 
on  the  sill,  in  inward  agitation^ 

Long  ago  in  the  old  moonlight, 

I  lost  my  hero  and  lover ; 
Strong  and  tender  and  stern  and  right, 
Never  shall  night 

Nor  day  his  brow  uncover.  — 

Ah,  my  heart,  that  is  over  ! 

[MICHAEL  enters;  Mater  starts  up,  but  sits  again,  as  he  makes 
a  moody  gesture  and  strides  darkly  across  the  room, 
struggling  with  himself.  Mater  resumes^] 

Yet  still,  for  joy  of  the  fellowship 

That  bound  us  both  through  the  years  long  after, 

I  laugh  to  think  how  he  bit  his  lip, 
For  the  test  of  love  — 
And  the  best  of  love  —  is  laughter. 


MATER  163 

MICHAEL 
[Hoarsely. ,] 

Mater!     You're   right.      It's  common   sense.      I 
make  up. 

MATER 

[Darting  to  his  armsj\ 
Ah,  my  hero ! 

[Clinging  to  him,  she  looks  past  him — smiling  through  tears 
—  toward  the  portraitl\ 


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